Timekeeper
by Raynebow-NinjaChick
Summary: Althea Thatcher works in the Department of Mysteries as a Timekeeper-someone who travels through time to observe and research events and people-and her latest mission takes her back to where it all started: Hogwarts. Post/pre HP canon.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Welcome to another grand endeavor on my part to add and play with the world of Harry Potter.**

 **Anything you recognize (characters, setting, etc.) belongs to J.K. Rowling. Everything else is mine.**

 **Please read and review.**

* * *

 **Chapter One**

Unsurprisingly for a busy Monday morning at the New Ministry of Magic the queue for the lifts was horribly long. It wound through the red ropes to the atrium and Floo stations. Every two minutes exactly a lift would open, two dozen people would go inside, and the doors would close. Then the line would shift forward and the process would repeat in one hundred and twelve seconds. Some people read _The Daily Prophet_ while they waited, others chatted with co-workers about various affairs, and a few seemed half-asleep where they stood.

Althea Thatcher, upon emerging from the Floo, bypassed the end of the never-ending line and shuffled her way toward the stairs. Few, if any people, chose the stairs because it meant exercise and exercise meant effort and that was tiring. The only other people who willingly took the hard way were Aurors, used to physical exertion in the field. This Monday morning, with her copy of _The Prophet_ folded under her arm, she began the long journey down into the bowels of the New Ministry.

Eighteen flights of stairs later, Althea opened the door marked "9" and walked out. At the same time another person exited the lift. Their eyes met, shifted for a moment to the side, and then they fell into step as they walked down the corridor. The black tiled walls reflected little of the light from the flickering globes, but Althea was used to squinting.

"Lovely weather today," the man said.

"Could be better, Rogers."

He opened the plain black door for her and she walked ahead. Pulling out their wands, the two pointed them at opposite doors and spoke. " _Aperio_."

She nodded at Rogers before walking into her own door and closing it behind her. As always, she was momentarily blinded by the glittering light from the bell jar in the corner. A small cabinet nearby held individual pieces of Time-Turners in compartments. It looked like there were only about seventy-five left to fix. She checked her reflection in a nearby grandfather clock, noticing faint wrinkles forming around her eyes, and frowned.

"Thatcher, is that you?"

A small part of her soul crinkled and puffed out of existence at the sound of Saul Croaker's voice. Taking a deep breath, she fixed her bag and walked down the hall toward her boss's office. She could see two people at their desks: one working on a Time-Turner, the other filling out a report. They nodded and she knocked once on the doorframe of Croaker's office before walking in.

"How can I help you, Mr. Croaker?"

"Today's the day, isn't it?"

"It sure is."

"Brought your paper?" She put _The Daily Prophet_ down on his desk and waited. "Good, good. And what are you checking out?"

"Number three, sir."

"I thought Lewis had number three."

"He just finished up the International Warlock Convention a week ago. It's my turn again."

"How much more time on this project?" He picked up a cup of coffee (most likely mixed with a little Firewhisky) and took a sip. She wanted to roll her eyes and tell him to just look at the file, but she also knew that his divorce was making him quite snippy. Desk work was not something she wanted any part of it.

Not when what she was doing was much more important.

"Two more months, maybe three. I've just got the one left to observe."

"Saved the best for last?"

"I've just been putting it off."

"Who's helping you?"

She adjusted her bag. "Thompkins was supposed to, but she called in sick."

"I'll take care of it then. Why don't you go get changed and I'll grab number three from the vault."

"Thanks, Mr. Croaker."

She made her way to the women's locker rooms and changed out of her street clothes and into the uniform. Putting the rucksack into her locker, she grabbed her pouch and started transferring things into it: food, water, a knife, and the basic things needed to survive for a month. Althea tied up her hair, put her wand in its holster, and walked out.

Croaker was waiting by the Portal. They'd named it that simply because it was where people came and went, and not because it actually went anywhere. The Portal didn't do the transporting. That was the Time-Turner's job.

Althea nodded and grabbed the golden orb from his hand. "Thirty days."

"See you in a month."

She began to turn the small intricate pieces of the Time-Turner and could feel the tingling begin. It started with her toes and crawled up her body before grabbing her by the belly-button and tearing her apart.

Most witches and wizards thought time travel was a piece of cake, something that the Ministry kept to itself because of what happened with Eloise Mintumble, but they were wrong. Time travel was a bitch. It felt like every cell of Althea's body was being ripped apart and put together all at once and she counted the seconds. The average trip took approximately one minute and forty-two seconds.

There were only five seconds left.

She could feel her hair falling out and growing once again.

Four seconds.

Her nails dropped off one by one.

Three seconds.

Blood dripped out of her nose and eyes.

Two seconds.

Her body was on fire.

One second.

Althea's body dropped to the cold, wet ground. She lay there, shivering and convulsing for a few moments before dry heaving onto the grass. There was a reason she never ate breakfast before traveling. Then, looking around, she made sure that no one was near before pulling out her Cloak and covering up. It was the first day after Easter holidays and she could see the carriages making their way toward the castle. There weren't as many students compared to current day, but she waited until they were all inside the gates before making her way onto the grounds.

She'd studied wards and shielding charms for years before she'd even been allowed to attempt this assignment. Not being able to access the location would have been a serious hindrance to her study. So when Althea reached the barrier between the outside world and the inside she took out her wand, touched the tip to the glow, and passed through. Part of the reason she was able to bypass the wards was probably because she was a student—at least in the future—and that meant she fit the basic criteria.

The students stepped out of the carriages and she made a few quick notes on some of the more noteworthy students. It appeared that the young Lady had a new gown and she was making eyes at the Baron. That was a minor history she'd been keeping track of, but it wasn't her main assignment. No, that was more important. Althea made sure her Time-Turner was secure and clasped her Cloak tighter.

 _Rule #1 of the Timekeeper's Code: Remain unseen at all times._

She made her way down the ridge and found one of the many secret entrances into the castle. Then, carefully making her way through the corridors, she arrived at the Great Hall and stepped into the feast. The tables were small versions of what they would later be, but the divide was still obvious. Hufflepuff at the far left, Gryffindor next to them, then Ravenclaw, and finally Slytherin on the far right. It was different than when she'd attended, and she still hadn't found out if there was a reason behind the layout or not.

She leaned against the wall and looked up at the Professors' Table. It wasn't known as that in this period, instead referred to as the Masters' Platform, but she thought that sounded as pompous as many of the people who sat at it. There were only four professors who each taught one subject, but that was acceptable and expected for the beginning years of what would later be one of the most respected academies in the wizarding world. They were the founders of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry after all.

Althea had already studied three of them, but there was one left and she wasn't looking forward to it. She'd started with her own founder—Rowena Ravenclaw—and hadn't been too surprised by the academically-oriented and wise woman. The fact that she spent her free time inventing potions and taking little credit for her creations was novel-worthy as was her hobby of collecting muggle pottery. Her dark hair was tied up and out of her face as she drank from a goblet and looked down at her table and crop of students.

Then came Helena Hufflepuff, the most different from Althea's assumptions so far, and she still wasn't sure why the plump, friendly witch of her era didn't match up with the Valkyrie goddess in front of her. There was something decidedly unfriendly about the sword-wielding sorceress as she barked out Transfiguration lessons and turned the occasional troublemaker into a rodent. Her hand was clasped around a turkey leg as she tossed her blonde braid over her shoulder. Althea held back an involuntary shiver.

The most boring and stereotypical of the founders so far was Godric Gryffindor. He pretty much went around looking for challenges, defeating enemies, and protecting the school from muggles. The only odd thing she'd noticed was how warm and affectionate he was toward the final founder, completely at odds with what everyone assumed.

Salazar Slytherin, her last person to investigate, seemed an enigma. In her first month on the assignment she'd assumed that he wasn't who he said he was and the real Slytherin was going to storm into the castle and kill him. The portrait in current-day Hogwarts showed a bald, cruel-looking man who sneered at everyone that passed by. The professor claiming his name and title in this time had shoulder-length dark hair, a pointed face, and eyes that she often thought could see through her invisibility. He was definitely intelligent, and several of the improvements to the castle had been his ideas, but she didn't understand how the unthreatening man that sat before her was the same one that created a legacy of muggle-born hatred.

There were only sixty-two students total and the Houses weren't even, but that didn't seem to bother the founders any. Gryffindor had the most students, followed closely by Ravenclaw and Slytherin, and Hufflepuff only had fifteen total. Despite the 'lax' standards of the badger house somehow no one measured up to Helena's battle-ready mentality. The students were eating barley, bacon, leeks, bread and butter, cheese, fish, pheasant, and other locally-sourced foods, but they didn't compare to modern food which was probably why Althea brought most of her food with her.

There was a loud clanging as Gryffindor banged his sword on the platform and rose from his seat. "Welcome back, welcome back. I hope you all enjoyed your holiday, but it's back to work and business. Let's have a toast for good fortune and health!"

There was a loud cheer as students drank and then, of course, Helena had to make an even more grand display and set one of the banners on fire and challenge students to extinguish it. Luckily one of Slytherin's students made quick work of it and the whole affair was over. The feast was over, class would resume the next day, and Althea was officially on duty with her investigation of Salazar Slytherin.

He led his students down into the dungeons, and she was surprised when he followed them into the common room instead of going toward his own quarters. The students sat in chairs and couches as if they were waiting for something. Was she about to hear a Salazar Slytherin hate speech? Was this the beginnings of anti-muggle-born sentiment? Althea managed to find an empty chair she was sure no one would try to sit on and waited with building anticipation.

The common room was different from current day, but that was to be expected. Hogwarts refreshed its design every couple of centuries to keep with the times. There was still a gorgeous view of the depths of the lake, which cast a greenish tint to the walls and furniture, and the whole room was decked in shades of emerald and silver. Slytherin took the largest armchair for himself and lit a fire in the grate.

"How was everyone's holiday?" His voice was melodious and managed to convey both a sense of honesty and wisdom that she wouldn't have expected; the Slytherin portrait's voice was like nails on a chalkboard most of the time. "What did we learn?"

"I learned how to make a healing potion," a small, dark-haired girl said. "Although it took a couple of times to get it right."

"And that's admirable. Very rarely does a person get anything right on the first try," he said. "It takes hard work, patience, dedication, and ambition to succeed at anything. Talent only gets you so far."

"Are you referring to Master Gryffindor, sir?"

"Not at all, young Pratt. I'm simply making an observation. What did you do with all of your free time?"

"Oh, I, uh, wrote a lot."

"Of an academic nature?"

"Not exactly."

"He was wooing again!" a blonde said.

"I was not!"

"Probably going to propose any day now."

"I'll hex you if you don't shut up!"

"Hush," Slytherin said, raising a hand. Althea noticed a single onyx ring on one of his fingers and wondered if he had a secret wife that history had ignored. That would be the mother load of historical discoveries. "Fighting for honor is one thing, but fighting just to make a point is another. Besides we are a House united, and we will not let petty squabbles bring us down. There is a cup to win after all."

"Do you really think we have a chance?"

"But Gryffindor's house is winning!"

"We can do it."

It seemed that every student in the room drew inspiration and strength from their Head, and she wondered what it was about him that made them so willing to believe every word he said. Was this how it started? Kind words and affirmations were one thing, but creating a sect within wizarding society was another. Something wasn't adding up. If the man in the portrait really was the man in front of her then how did he come to get that way? What happened that made him into a scarred and bitter tyrant?

There wasn't much time left to find out. She knew that Salazar Slytherin would disappear from Hogwarts in the near future for unknown, but presumed reasons. He would get into an argument with Gryffindor about the admittance standards of Hogwarts; they'd disagree, duel, and separate. The school would never be the same.

Slytherin and the students chatted about holidays, the house cup, and the importance of studying for close to an hour. Other than noting some speech patterns of interest there wasn't much for historical documentation. She almost dozed off at one point, lulled to rest by the warm fire, the gentle glow from the lake, and the soothing tones of his voice. Althea was brought back to immediate attention by the feeling of being watched.

When she looked up from her notes and doodles, Salazar Slytherin was looking in her direction. The way his glacier-blue eyes gazed made her feel naked, and she had to take a deep breath and remind herself that she was invisible. Her Cloak was powerful, descended from the Hallow itself, and that meant she was protected from death, visibility, and powerful ancient sorcerers. Still there was a disconcerting notion that he knew she was there.

The night finished up quickly after that and she followed him as quietly as possibly to his quarters. She still hadn't figured out whether he'd created the Chamber of Secrets yet, but looked forward to seeing it for herself and not just reading about it. After he went through the private wards—which even she dared not breech—she exited the castle through a different passageway and set up camp in the forest.

Her tent was Disillusioned and she made a quick dinner of instant noodles. The hardest part of missions wasn't keeping quiet and unseen, it was the moments where there was nothing to do but wait for her subjects to do something. She checked her supplies, double-checked the Time-Turner, and rewrote her notes minus the doodles. Croaker would have her neck if he found drawings of him in the official records, especially the unflattering ones.

So far her research on the founders of Hogwarts had yielded interesting results. Rowena Ravenclaw seemed to know more than she let on, Helga Hufflepuff was not the pushover creampuff she was presumed to be, Godric Gryffindor was more bloodthirsty than brave, and Salazar Slytherin was a decent person who hadn't said one word against muggles since she'd been watching them.

The only time she wasn't able to listen in or observe was when they entered their private quarters and in the founders' meetings amongst themselves in the Head office. Since they all shared power equally there wasn't much need of a Headmaster's study, and it instead seemed to serve as a place for discussion of higher issues. Issues she wasn't privy to. Issues she wanted to know. If there was some grand secret behind the creation of Hogwarts she wanted to be the first to discover it.

No matter what the cost.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thank you to those who reviewed the first chapter (made my day). Updates will be weekly.**

 **Anything you recognize (characters, setting, etc.) belongs to J.K. Rowling. Everything else is mine.**

 **Please read and review.**

* * *

Chapter Two

The first thing Althea noticed about Salazar Slytherin's teaching method was that he reminded her a bit of Professor Potter. He was knowledgeable and confident, but patient enough to deal with the students who lagged behind the others. One of the Gryffindor students had set a wardrobe on fire while trying to disarm Waldo Pratt, and instead of giving out a detention (which were positively archaic in this time) Slytherin demonstrated what went wrong and assigned the student extra practice time. It was…enlightening to say the least.

Althea had found that attending each of the founder's classes taught her not only about them as professors but she also learned a great deal on their subjects. Rowena's lessons on Potions had put Professor Slughorn to shame, and Helga's Transfiguration lectures were things of beauty and terror. Althea was sure she was prepared to pass the Animagus test at the Ministry thanks to those lessons. Gryffindor's classes in Charms were interesting, and fairly useful. Due to the lack of Ministry interference many of the spells weren't taught anymore, and she had to disagree with the strict control of the future in some instances.

Especially, it seemed, when it came to Master Slytherin's Dark Arts lessons. It had still been Defense Against the Dark Arts when she'd gone to school, and most of that stemmed from Grindelwald and Voldemort's separate reigns of terror on Britain. She'd heard the wizarding education was more liberal in America, but that seemed a little hard to believe.

In just the first hour of class they'd discussed the morality of using spells against others, in what instances it was called for or not, and when a killing curse was warranted. She wouldn't have expected Slytherin to be so relaxed in his teachings, and figured that he would've favored harsher punishments for evil-doers.

The differences between future Slytherin and current Salazar were too various to list. The obvious appearance change that couldn't just be explained with age was the most obvious. Then there was the personality and methodologies too, because he wasn't a brooding muggle-born-hating man. She'd noticed the oddities during her earlier reports in his interactions with the other founders, particularly Gryffindor, but it was a different thing to see it in person and in his relationships with the students. This man was not the man the world thought he was…at least not yet.

Althea sat through all of his lessons, noting the way he treated the younger students versus the older ones, and how his passion for Dark Arts was evident in each spell he cast. Despite his clear knowledge of some of the darkest spells she'd never heard of, he didn't seem to be training an army of future evil. If anything he was preparing them for the worst while making them seek the best solutions. The way he spoke had her hanging on every word, and at one point she found herself actually taking notes on the lesson instead of on the person teaching. Sure, ancient teachings were just as highly valued in the vaults but an investigation into the founders was more important than that.

Slytherin didn't take his lunch in his private quarters like Rowena did, but instead ate in the Great Hall with Gryffindor and occasionally Helga. They ate bread, meats, and cheeses while the founders drank mead and talked about the nearby muggle raids. It was the first time that she'd been privy to one of these conversations so she moved closer. The students managed to talk louder than she could hear, and the risk of exposure was higher than Croaker would've liked, but it had to be done.

"Do you think they'll come here?" Slytherin said.

"The wards should divert them, but it could happen."

"What will we do? Surely we can't fight them…"

"Wouldn't be much of a battle in the first place, but we can try alternative methods. Perhaps a bridge or a moat? We could always tie up a dragon near the gate—they love those."

"And then they'll send warriors to defeat the dragon and we'll have well-trained fighters on our hands instead of farmers."

"They're just muggles."

"They're human, Godric."

It was historical gold. Salazar Slytherin defending muggles? Althea kept her notepad close by and her Quick Quotes Quill™ wrote down every word. She was so busy learning forward to listen that a lock of hair fell out of her hood and was briefly visible. As she pushed it back it seemed that Slytherin might have inclined his head in her direction, but she couldn't be sure. Either way her time was up and lunch was over.

The students went to their afternoon courses and she followed Slytherin up to the second floor, in the opposite direction she'd predicted he would go. They passed a few stragglers heading to Gryffindor's Charms lesson and, when the corridor was clear, Slytherin stepped into the girls' lavatory. Althea had studied the layout, visited it when she'd been a student at Hogwarts, but she knew that the modern Chamber had to be vastly different from the original. Still, she wasn't quite sure it was safe to follow him yet—not on the first day, not so early in its creation. He had to be on guard and her footsteps might echo on the stones. It would have to wait till later.

She sat in the second floor lavatory and worked on her notes, noticing that she'd written more questions than answers. Why the difference between current and future? How did he really feel about muggles? What created the divide between Gryffindor and Slytherin? Why did he leave? What was he working on in the Chamber? She organized the pages and tried to come up with a working theory. Slytherin and Gryffindor had been colleagues for a decade or so now and nothing in their history or interactions showed any friction.

If anything, the most friction between the founders was Helga and Gryffindor. The latter had tried to woo her on many occasions, and she'd responded by throwing down a battle challenge to see if he was worthy. Then she'd kicked his ass. They'd been playing this game for months and she never tired of it. Althea wondered how Auror Potter would feel if he knew his founder had been defeated by 'soft, kind-hearted' Hufflepuff. Not that she could tell him. This was a secret mission for the Department of Mysteries after all.

There was a rattle as the stairway from the Chamber appeared. Althea double-checked her Cloak and lack of visibility before standing and watching as Slytherin appeared and looked around. Finding nothing out of sorts, he left the room and she followed. He spent some time in his office grading papers, which was terribly boring to watch, and she spent that time looking around.

Most of his books were out of print in her day, some of them quite rare, and they were illuminated and handwritten. She wasn't sure if Slytherin himself had done the writing or if it had been done by magical monks. The candlelight he worked by wasn't quite adequate and she could feel her eyes straining. There wasn't a place to sit since everything was covered with parchment, quills, pots of ink, and various dark-looking objects. Luckily her trips up and down the stairs in the Ministry paid off with strong legs that could stand for hours. Physically she was ready for the boredom, but mentally? Not so much.

Even though historical analysis and investigation were fascinating, and she was lucky to even be doing this secretive work in the first place, there were dull moments. Moments where watching Slytherin give Waldo Pratt an E wasn't pertinent to her overall work. Some other Timekeepers wrote down the minutia of their assignments, but she wasn't one of them. Major questions needing answering and it would take time to get them, and they probably wouldn't be found in essays on the difference between hexes, jinxes, and curses.

There were only 28 days left and she planned to use every one of them.

 _Rule #2 of the Timekeeper's Code: Do not exceed the time limit allotted._

Slytherin, like all of the founders, had a routine that he kept to. He went to breakfast, taught lessons, had lunch, worked in the Chamber, graded papers, went to dinner, and spent his evenings with his House. After the first week, nothing of interest happened. She kept her notes organized, observed his patterns, and waited for a proper opportunity to follow him into the Chamber. It was part of the reason she'd saved him for last; Salazar Slytherin was the most unknown and mysterious of the founders.

And so, nine days into her assignment, she paused a moment after he went into the passageway, took a quiet breath, and followed him in. They walked through a corridor, the temperature dropping with every step, and paused in front of a large door. Intricately carved serpents moved as Slytherin spoke in Parseltongue and it opened. Out of suspicion or habit, Slytherin looked behind him, right through her, and stepped into the Chamber. She walked behind him and had to hold back a gasp at what she saw.

It was gorgeous. The walls glittered and shone in the light from sconces on the wall, and she could see that one of the walls looked into the depths of the lake. A mermaid swam by and waved at Slytherin before disappearing into the darkness. None of the reports she'd heard about the Chamber said anything about a wall connecting to the Lake. The founder stepped up onto a dais and stared up at a gigantic statue of a man who looked more like the Slytherin she knew than the one before her. The mystery deepened.

He stood like that for a few moments before checking on some cauldrons bubbling away, and sitting down at the desk to work. She moved closer, desperately making sure her steps didn't echo in any way, and looked at what he was writing. It seemed to be a draft or a proposal of some kind, but it wasn't related to muggles or muggleborns in any way. The title, or at the least the working one since the three above it were crossed out, was "The Benefits of Squib Education at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

This was…unexpected. The parchment was full of scribbles and snippets of thoughts, and she wondered how long he'd been working on it. Since there wasn't a Ministry yet she wasn't sure who he was writing it to or for what purpose. Surely if Salazar Slytherin wanted educated squibs then it wouldn't be hard to speak with the other founders about it and make it happen. What was the hold up?

There was a noise from the other side of the Chamber and Althea held back a scream and stood absolutely still as a basilisk slid out of one of the pipes and slithered toward them. This was something she hadn't predicted. No one was quite sure when the basilisk entered the school, but the rumors were that Slytherin had brought it with him. Since she hadn't seen or heard of it in her months of observation she'd assumed that that was one rumor she could put aside. Apparently she was wrong, very, very wrong.

She kept her eyes down on the parchment, even as she heard it move closer. She could feel its weight on the stones nearby and estimated that it was about 130 kilos—not fully grown. Slytherin ignored the creature as he finished a paragraph before looking over at it and speaking in Parseltongue.

Several thoughts flew through Althea's mind in the span of a second. Slytherin could speak to the basilisk. The basilisk could smell Althea. Althea could be revealed at any moment. So, in the following second, she did one of the stupidest things she could think of. While Slytherin was looking at the basilisk she tipped over his ink, spilling it onto the corner of his parchment. He immediately stopped talking and started working on cleaning up the mess.

Althea used this distraction to quickly and somewhat quietly run out of the Chamber and into the corridor. Luckily, the basilisk didn't follow her and she managed to not have a heart attack. Croaker would have a field day if she died on assignment because of something as simple as a basilisk. All of her training to avoid anachronisms, to practice invisibility and how to be undetected, to learn the timeline of wizarding history by heart, and she'd die because she assumed that a rumor about a killer creature was false. How embarrassing.

Apparently her little distraction was enough to throw off Slytherin's schedule as he left the Chamber not too long after. Since he had, in fact, brought a basilisk into the school she wondered how much of history was set to happen in the month or so that she was present. There had only been two conversations about muggles, nothing about the sorting process and any problems with it, and no tension between Gryffindor and Slytherin that was anything other than day-to-day minor annoyances. She wasn't sure what she was waiting for, but it had to be big.

How else could she explain everything that wasn't adding up? It didn't make any sense.

Althea ran out of instant noodles on the fifteenth and was forced to set up a few traps to catch rabbits and other small creatures. She found a nearby blackberry bush and cleared it of its fruits in an evening. She'd used magic to clean herself more than she would've liked, but sneaking into the castle and using the baths while visible was too risky. Even though she would kill for some hot water.

She'd spent the morning watching Slytherin work on grading papers and hovering at the edges of the Chamber while keeping an eye on the basilisk. When it was clear that he wasn't going to do anything else she made her way back to camp to organize her notes and indulge in some actual cleanliness. There was a nearby hot springs that didn't exist in the future, and she intended to make full use of it. Grabbing her Cloak and wand, Althea made her way up the mountain. She could have just Apparated, but using any magic seemed risky to do in the proximity of four of the greatest magicians the universe had ever known.

She set her things down on a nearby rock, set up a few wards and alarms, and undressed. She put a toe into the water and almost moaned at how good it felt. Making sure her hair potions were nearby, she stepped in and immediately dunked her head under the water. Croaker and the other male Timekeepers might be able to go a month without proper bathing, but Althea definitely could not. Her three month field training had been long enough.

Leaning back against a rock, she stared up at the sunny sky and smiled. If she didn't think about it, it was easy to pretend that she was on vacation, relaxing at a spa somewhere, and not on assignment in the tenth century studying one of the most hated figures of history. Most people wouldn't want to, but—then again—most people didn't even know it was an option. The Department of Mystery didn't send out job offerings or put ads in the _Daily Prophet._ Instead, they recruited from the other departments, finding those with suitable N.E. scores and applicable talents.

Then there were tests. Althea's first job at the Ministry had been as an unpaid intern working with the Invisibility Task Force, and she'd wondered why Regina Watson started following her and asking seemingly inane questions. It turned out that she'd been put on a watch list from the moment she'd scored an O on her History of Magic test. Apparently few, if any, students took the exam in the first place.

After she'd been officially offered a temporary position within the Department there had been more tests. Each section of the Department of Mysteries had its own requirements and skills needed. Her lack of knowledge about astronomy disqualified her from working with the Astronauts, the high-security measures and general mental qualities of the Seers didn't fit well, and she wasn't willing to go through with the intense training to become a Heartkeeper. There had been two interviews between two sections of the Department before she'd finally chosen her position. The Thinkers had been interested in her philosophical wonderings about the power of the mind, about possible telekinesis in practice, and a few other things. But it was Saul Croaker and the Timekeepers who had given her the choice to observe history, travel through time, and research the truth of the world with her own eyes.

Who would turn that down?

Althea grabbed a nearby potion and smeared it over her head, wishing for the soft locks that she hadn't had for weeks. Magic could only do so much. A nice floral scent wafted out of the bottle and she sighed in appreciation. Ministry paychecks, especially from the Department of Ministry, paid for the nicest things. The days of muggle shampoos and conditioners were in her past. In fact, one of the first things she'd observed about the founders had been their devotion to cleanliness within the castle. The prefects' baths hadn't been added on quite yet, but there was still enough water for all the students and professors to remain clean.

A branch snapped nearby and Althea only had enough time to grab her nearby Cloak and use it to cover her chest before a figure stepped out of the trees. She felt for her wards and noticed that they hadn't been tripped and that the alarms were intact. Her hand clasped her wand and the person noticed her before she had time to go fully invisible. The only word she could say was a simple, "Fuck."


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Thanks for the reviews, follows, and favorites. Here's your weekly taste of the past.**

 **Anything you recognize (setting, characters, etc.) belongs to J.K. Rowling. Everything else is mine.**

 **Please read, enjoy, and review.**

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Chapter Three

 _Rule #3 of the Timekeeper's Code: Do not speak to anyone._

Salazar Slytherin was standing at the edge of the hot springs, wearing only a tunic and trousers instead of having his robes on overtop, and staring at her. Always on guard, his wand was in his hand but it was a good sign that it wasn't pointed in her direction. His glacier gaze was fully on her and this time she knew that he could see her, or, well, most of her. The Cloak was covering up the important bits, but that probably made her more suspicious.

"Who are you?" he said. She got a taste of what could be the true Slytherin as his voice lacked any warmth or care for her wellbeing.

She could pretend to be mute. That would avoid the telling accent of her words and the fact that her syntax and speech patterns were all wrong for the time period. That wouldn't explain why she still had a wand when speechless magic was some of the most difficult. He'd assume that she was a powerful witch, and perhaps it would be better for him to assume that she was a weak, feebleminded type of person.

There wasn't an easy answer. She was breeching sixteen different protocols just by being seen, and if she spoke then it would be another twenty-two, depending on what she said. Slytherin was just standing there, patiently waiting for an answer, while she remained near-nude in the hot springs.

She could fight him, but that wouldn't work out very well. Sure, she knew some spells that hadn't been invented yet, but he was more powerful by far and she couldn't hurt him without affecting the timeline in some way. Perhaps she'd already affected history by being caught and screwed up everything. If she'd already ruined everything would it hurt to say anything? Althea bit the corner of her lip and couldn't think of a straight answer.

She was a witch from the future, in possession of a Time-Turner, covering herself with a high-grade invisibility cloak, and not saying anything in response to a direct question. Slytherin moved closer, moving his wand up in a semi-threatening manner, and asked again. "Who are you?"

"N-nobody."

"How did you find this place?"

"I was in the area and fancied a swim," she said. Slytherin probably didn't know what sarcasm was, but it did look like he doubted her.

"These are private grounds."

"I wasn't aware."

"I think that you were. Who are you? Friend or foe?"

"Friend." She definitely didn't want to be Slytherin's foe. That probably wouldn't end well.

"Of whom?"

"Yours," she said.

"We've never met," Slytherin said. "I would remember someone with an accent like yours."

"I-I'm here to help with some of the improvements to the castle."

"The castle is near completion. We need no additional assistance."

"What about precautions against muggles?" It was cheating to use her insider knowledge to help in this situation, but what else was she supposed to do? She hitched up the Cloak a little higher and prayed for him to leave or for this all to be a nightmare.

"What do you know?"

It seemed that Slytherin was greatly unaffected by her lack of dress and she was trying her best to avoid standing up. "I've heard that there have been bands of muggles nearby and that your security may be lax. Based on the fact I got in I think my assumptions may be correct."

There was a pause where it seemed that Slytherin might be embarrassed, but he covered it by looking at the area around them. "You seem rather unguarded, witch."

"If you're referring to my state of dress—"

"—or lack thereof—"

"—then I should tell you that I'm just as capable of defending myself with or without clothes."

He smirked. "I would like to see that."

Never, in all of her research and time spent watching the founders, would she have guessed that Salazar Slytherin would be…flirting with her? Althea reached out her hand toward the wand, but he made a gentle hum in his throat and she paused. Testing the limits of Slytherin's patience would not be a wise decision.

They were at a stalemate. She was an unknown witch, unarmed and naked, and he was a powerful wizard, dangerous but in need of her lie. He could either let her go, kill her, or force her to go through with upgrading Hogwarts' defenses. The best solution would be to go on her merry way, wait a day or two, and then pick back up where she left.

"Do you know who I am?" he said.

She knew that he was already a legend by this time. He'd studied under one of Merlin's apprentices, single-handedly fought off a hoard of dragons, dueled with Godric Gryffindor on numerous occasions and bested him, and too many other achievements to list. It wouldn't be much of a stretch to pretend that she'd heard of him. Hogwarts may be a new school in this time, but it was already on the way to becoming the most renowned in Europe.

"Yes."

"Then it's only fair that you tell me who you are."

She could lie and give him a false name, one of the more popular names of the time, and he'd never know better. She was leaving in fourteen days. It would be possible to lie to Slytherin and help out Hogwarts before disappearing. The proper thing to do would be to admit that she was compromised, return to the future, and pray that she hadn't screwed things up royally.

"Please," he said. His eyes landed on her and, despite the awkwardness and terrible nature of this meeting, she blushed.

Then her mouth and tongue seemed to move on their own as she said, "Althea."

"And you are a witch?"

"Yes."

"And you swear that you mean no harm to me or mine?" She could sense his fierce desire to protect his students and the other founders in that one question.

"I swear."

"Then I feel it would be best if you dressed and came with me to the castle."

And that was that. Slytherin turned away as she slipped out and put on her suit. A quick spell later and her future-tech had changed into a plain wool dress that did nothing to flatter her figure. She left her hair down for the moment, cinched her Cloak around her shoulders, pushed her wand up her sleeve, and looked over to find Slytherin watching her. It was a good thing that she hadn't put on the Cloak and ran away, because his eyes seemed to promise that he would find her. And Althea really didn't want a basilisk sniffing her out.

"You are alone, aren't you?"

"Yes," she said. "No one else is with me."

"Good, good." He held out his hand as she started climbing down the mountain (somehow more difficult in a dress than in her suit), but she ignored it in favor of a nearby branch. Whether he was bothered by her dismissal or not she couldn't tell. Slytherin was a blank slate as they walked back to the castle. He didn't say anything more on the subject as he walked her through the main doors.

She kept checking for her wand, feeling small and unsure without it at her side, and breathed a sigh of relief each time it was there. She could feel his eyes on her, but ignored them in favor of looking around and taking the castle in as if it were brand new to her eyes. "It's beautiful," she said.

"Thank you. We've worked very hard on it."

"I can tell." They walked past the Great Hall and up some stairs, down a corridor, and toward what would later become the Headmaster's office. "Where are you taking me?"

"Somewhere safe to speak," he said. "I don't completely trust these walls yet."

"And yet you trust me?"

"I never said that."

He approached the giant phoenix statue and gently stroked its right wing. The marble sprang to life and turned, revealing a spiral staircase, and she was surprised when he gestured for her to go first. She walked up the steps, each one a gallows walk, and paused in front of the grand door embellished with the Hogwarts' crest. Slytherin bypassed her and pressed his palm on the door. There was a green glow and then it unlocked.

She knew from what day it was and the approximate time that Rowena was in her study and Helga was practicing swordplay in the yard. That could only leave…

Godric Gryffindor looked up from the solid oak table and took in the pair. His brow furrowed, only slightly, before he stood and bowed. "To what do I owe the pleasure, my friend? And just who is your charming companion?"

"May I present the Lady Althea, Godric. I found her wandering nearby; she says she can help with some of our security precautions."

"Can she?" Gryffindor passed his gaze over her and she felt distinctly lacking. His hand played with the hilt of the renowned sword and, for a moment, she felt a threatening aura pass over.

"I think you'll find that my warding skills are ahead of their time."

For some reason she couldn't stop it with the sarcasm and jokes, even if they were going over the two founders' heads. Slytherin still hadn't moved from her side and she felt warmth from his nearness seeping through her Cloak. It was disconcerting to say the least—especially since everyone said that Slytherin was just as much a cold snake as his House mascot. Gryffindor smiled at her, but it didn't meet his eyes. He was being wary.

"And where do you hail from?"

"The south," she said. It was better to be general than specific in this case. Her knowledge of historical events was noteworthy, but her geography skills were not.

Godric blinked slowly and sat back down. "Would you care to join me, friends? So that we may discuss these further precautions?"

There were only four seats at the table, and Slytherin took the one next to Gryffindor and she sat next to him to avoid being next to the robust figure. There was a map of the grounds spread out on the table, several figures hastily drawn at key points. She noticed the placement of the bridge was exactly where it would later be.

"So then," Slytherin said, "where are our weaknesses?"

She pretended to the study the map as if she didn't know everything by heart before saying, "The lake and mountains give you natural barriers, the main road is needed for carriages and basic transport, and this bridge you've drawn here is well-placed. However, the land over here is wide open and it's near a muggle trade route. I would suggest focusing on this area and strengthening what you already have."

There was a moment of silence as they looked at the map and then at her. It seemed that they hadn't believed her lie until she proved something. Shrugging, she picked up a quill and dipped it in the ink well. She drew several walls and then put several x's along the castle walls.

"What are those for?" Godric said. "Our walls are well-protected."

"Insurance," she said. "If you were to create golems or something similar and have them be on the grounds then a person could call on them if the need rose."

She knew that Headmistress McGonagall had used a spell to bring the castle statues to life to help defend Hogwarts in the Battle, but she hadn't seen any of those statues on the grounds in this time. Either her interference paid off in the future, or they were created at a later date after the founders.

"That's brilliant," Slytherin said. "A golem army could protect us without any magical casualties."

"What honor is there in sitting back and letting some beast do the fighting?" Gryffindor said.

"It's just a precaution," she said. Historians had no idea the extent of blood lust that the Great Lion seemed to carry. They speculated that he'd been in more fights than the other founders because he liked it—as some sort of bloody hobby—but it seemed that that was just touching the surface. "Wouldn't you like to protect your students before coming to a proper fight?"

"I'd rather they know how to fight."

"It's worth bringing up with Helena and Rowena to see what they think." Slytherin reached over and took the quill from her, his fingers brushing up against hers. A chill spread through her arm and she dropped it, spilling some ink on the map, as she pulled the limb back. It was like being bitten by a snake, and she quickly apologized for her clumsiness and avoided meeting Slytherin's eyes. She didn't quite understand what was going on and it seemed like a crazy dream.

"Who did you study under?" Gryffindor said. He cleaned the map with a wave of his hand, displaying such power in a casual way that made Althea's heart race, and she swallowed.

"A witch in Bulgaria took me in as a child. She taught me everything I know."

"Ah, that must explain your accent." The blonde nodded as if that settled things and drank from a goblet of wine. "I've heard that they have powerful wards in the empire to protect all that treasure."

"Indeed."

Slytherin poured himself a goblet and gave her one without asking. She didn't really drink much, but when offered a cup by the founder of a powerful house she couldn't say no. It was stronger than she was used to, but not that bad.

"It's a long journey from Bulgaria to here," Slytherin said.

"Yes," she said. She drank, calling upon all of her Ministry training to keep her cool. If she slipped for even a moment she was dead, time was ruined, and everything could be destroyed. For all she knew, Althea could go back and discover that Voldemort had killed Harry Potter and taken over Britain.

"How long have you been in our fair land?" Gryffindor twisted his fingers and looked at her over them.

"Not long. It is beautiful."

"Of course it is." Gryffindor smiled again, and she found that each one she received made her like him less and less. "You must be tired from such a journey. Do you have lodgings nearby?"

"I'm afraid not."

"Then you must stay with us—be our guest!" He widened his arms as if to offer her the entire castle. Slytherin seemed uncomfortable with the idea but said nothing.

"Oh, I couldn't…"

"We have rooms to spare, and we can always add on another easily enough."

"Then I suppose I could," she said.

"Good, it's all settled then. If you'll follow me to the seventh floor—"

"No," Slytherin said. "She should stay in the dungeon. There's not much down there and we wouldn't want her wandering, would we?"

Gryffindor clutched his sword for a moment, hand tight on the hilt before loosening his grip, and nodded. "We wouldn't want that. Lady Althea, if you'll allow us to escort you to your room…"

"That would be lovely."

They stood up from the table and walked down the stairs: Gryffindor in front and Slytherin behind her. She could feel his eyes on her back and worked to keep her spine straight. They walked down the corridor, sparse except for a handful of enchanted paintings, and down into the dungeons. They didn't pass any students or the other founders, and she felt immensely grateful of this. Two in one day was more than enough.

They stopped in front of a plain door and, with a quick spell, Gryffindor unlocked it. She walked past him, mindful of the fact he inhaled as she went by, and looked around the room. It was small and more of a broom closet, but there was a bed, table, and small basin for water. She could survive this for a few hours.

"Do you find it to your liking?" Gryffindor said.

"It's quaint."

"Good, good. We'll send a house elf with dinner shortly."

"Perfect," she said.

Gryffindor reached out and took her hand, kissing the top of it before bowing and leaving the room. She almost expected Slytherin to do the same, but he just nodded and closed the door behind him. The Time-Turner was securely hidden in her bust and she resisted the temptation to just go back to the future at that moment. If she did then all of her supplies and effects would be left behind and that could create a whole other issue. Sighing, she sat down on the thin mattress and tried to think of a plan.

She knew all of their schedules and routines by heart. At this moment they would all be heading to dinner to eat with the students. Helga would stay the longest, drink more than seemed humanly possible, and lead the students in the school song. Rowena would quietly watch the events with amusement and make sure that her students were keeping up with their work. Gryffindor would wait for his customary 'duel-period' where a single student from his House would come up to challenge him and they would have a very brief battle. Slytherin would take all this in, and probably plan out whatever fireside chat he was going to host that evening.

They would be in the Great Hall for at least an hour. That would give her plenty of time to escape the room, sneak out of the castle, and relocate her camp. Then everything could go back to normal. Just like that.

They hadn't even disarmed her, which meant that they either had put badass charms on her door or they didn't think that highly of her magical skills. Pulling out her wand, she crept to the door and knocked on it once to test the wards. There was just a simple alarm system meant to alert Gryffindor if she left the room. It was simple enough to Confund and then she was out and walking down the hall in no time.

It was even easier to pull up her hood and conceal herself completely. All this nonsense would be over and done with. She went slowly, checking around corners to be sure, and listening as hard as she could for feet on the stones. There wasn't anything. In fact, it sounded as if Helga had started the singing earlier than usual.

Each step was pure torture, especially when all she wanted to do was run out. The secret passageway opened up easily enough and she looked over her shoulder before stepping inside. The only unexpected thing was the hard surface she walked directly into. Looking from the ground up, she found that said hard surface was in fact Salazar Slytherin and he was smirking. "Going for a stroll, are we?"

"I…. Hello?" She pulled off her Cloak.

"That took a bit longer than I thought it would. Aren't you supposed to be 'ahead of our time'?"

"Why aren't you at dinner?"

"Why aren't you in your room?"

She kept his gaze and tried to stare him down, but failed. Shifting to the side, she shrugged. "I don't do well in small spaces."

"And I wasn't hungry."

"Then it seems we're at an impasse."

"It does."

"Are you going to take me back to the room?" she said. It was only then that she noticed she hadn't stepped away from him for some reason. She immediately fixed that.

"It's for your own safety."

"From you?"

"From Godric," he said. He ran a hand through his dark hair. "I can tell you that the moment you step out of this castle he will be after you. And there's nothing Godric loves more than a good hunt."

"And how do you propose to keep me safe?"

"Stay here, in the dungeons, and ward your door from the inside. If you are as gifted as you say then it should be no trouble keeping him out. A Dark spell or two may even find its way into your repertoire."

He was giving her an ultimatum. If she left then Gryffindor would find her and do Merlin knew what. If she stayed then at least she could protect herself and maybe have Slytherin's help. Sighing, she stepped fully back into the hall and turned back toward the dungeons. The founder fell into step beside her.

"I hope that you're not more trouble than you're worth."

"I guess we'll find out."

"Trust me when I say that if you betray us I will make sure you experience pain you can only imagine." She looked over and saw that his hand was resting on the dark wand.

If only Slytherin knew that part of her Ministry training was enduring hours of the Cruciatus, being subjected to curses long-outlawed by society, and remaining strong in face of any foe. She wasn't stupid enough to think that she could defeat Salazar Slytherin in battle, but she knew that she would last longer than some. And if that's what it took to escape this timeline in one piece then so be it.

She would get out of this somehow… There were only two weeks left.

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	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Anything you recognize (characters/setting/etc.) belongs to J.K. Rowling. Everything else is mine.**

 **Thank you for the reviews and please keep them coming!**

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Chapter Four

When Althea woke up in the morning she kept her eyes closed for sixty-two seconds, praying that the events of the day before had been a nightmare and that she was in her tent. Unfortunately, when she opened them the ceiling above was a dull gray and she was in the same broom closet that she'd gone to sleep in the night before. Pulling out her wand, she checked the wards and found that they'd been briefly disturbed the night before—not enough to wake her up—and that whoever had touched them had left shortly after. If Slytherin's suspicion was anything to go off of then it had to be Gryffindor.

She stretched, used magic to freshen up, checked the Time-Turner and supplies, and then improved her dress. If she was going to be stuck with the founders in Hogwarts then she was going to do better than looking like a sack of potatoes. She knew that colors meant more than just pretty accents to these people and that wearing blue, yellow, red, or green would indicate favoritism in some way. So she stuck to purple and added gold and black accents. Then she plaited her hair and transfigured a small bauble before pinning it to her dress. Satisfied, with no mirror to tell if it looked okay or not, she undid each and every ward before purposely tripping Gryffindor's as she left.

It took only a minute of slowly making her way to the Great Hall before the brutish figure made an entrance from one of the staircases, hand on his sword as always. There were rubies on his fingers and a heavy pendant hanging from his neck. He smiled, shook his hair as if it were a mane, and held out his hand. Using all of her training, Althea smiled and took it. He once again kissed her palm, eyes reaching up to meet hers, and said, "Good morning, my Lady. How was your rest?"

"I'm afraid that I hardly slept."

"Oh?"

"I'm not used to such close quarters, Master Gryffindor," she said.

"Please call me Godric."

"That's much too familiar!" She swatted at his arm even as she wanted to punch him in the face. He thought she was weak? Well, she'd use that to her advantage. "I could never call someone as powerful and renowned as you by your given name."

"I insist. After all, you have given me no family name to call you by. Shall I simply know you as Althea?"

"I have no family to speak of."

"Neither do I. My family was slaughtered by muggles when I was but a student."

That was new information. Historians knew that Godric Gryffindor had been the heir of his family, but she'd never heard anything about them being killed by muggles. "Why?"

"Because they are muggles? They do not understand our gifts and call them aberrations, kill us where we sleep, destroy our families in the name of their religion," Gryffindor said as his face flushed a deep shade of red that matched his House. "A student took what we taught her and tried to heal a village. In return they stoned her."

"Do you hate them?"

"Muggles? They have their uses, but they should be taught our ways, engaged in our society in some manner. They are sheep and I feel that we should act as shepherds."

He held onto her arm as they walked, his grip almost bruising. She took small, deep breaths to keep calm. It seemed at odds with what she'd heard of Gryffindor. He was wearing a hat today and she had to remind herself that it would later be on her head for a brief moment centuries into the future. For now it was just a hat, but it would become something more in due time. He looked down at her and she got the sense that he used his size to intimate people on a daily basis. Slytherin didn't have to, but she wasn't sure what it was about him that gave her unease.

"I see," she said.

"Do you?" he asked, fixing her with his dark stare. "Do you see the future I do?"

Althea paused and was about to create an elaborate lie when someone cleared their throat from a nearby corridor. She looked up and almost choked on nothing when Rowena Ravenclaw cocked her head to the side. The woman smiled and dipped her head in a mock bow, the sapphire diadem on her head shining in the sun, before stepping toward them.

"Dear Godric, who is this mysterious figure you've been dragging up and down the halls? I don't believe we've met."

Althea curtseyed and kept her eyes lowered from that birdlike stare as she spoke. "My name is Althea, madam. I am a guest if it pleases you."

"And where do you hail from? And what purpose do you have here at Hogwarts?"

"The south, madam. And I am here to aid in the protection of your school."

"Such curiosity, Rowena!" Gryffindor said. "I think the poor girl has had enough of them." He traced a hand down the side of her face and she resisted the urge to flinch.

"Curiosity does me well; I learn much from it," she said. Her blue gown was simpler than Althea's, but it looked like one of the fanciest dresses when she wore it. "Who else has met this charming stranger?"

"Salazar brought her to us. Apparently he found her outside the grounds."

"How did you know where to find us?"

There was the founder that Althea had studied and tried to emulate for years. The other two hadn't even thought to wonder how she'd been able to find the grounds of a brand new, secret school. Althea put on her most believable smile and shrugged as if it wasn't a big deal. "I followed the rumors and the roads, madam, and they led me here."

Rowena nodded as if this pleased her and gestured to the Great Hall. "Will you be joining us for breakfast?"

"Oh, I wouldn't wish to disturb the students—a new face and all that. I'll just grab something from the kitchens and walk about the grounds."

"If you so wish," Rowena said. "Now it wouldn't do for you to steal Godric away as well. Breakfast is such an important affair…"

Gryffindor looked like he wanted to throttle Rowena, but held back and smiled. She could still feel his hand tense around her arm before it let go. "I'm afraid the lady is right and I must be going. Hopefully I can see you later for some wine and cheese?"

"Perhaps," she said.

He smiled as if he found her playing coy amusing and kissed her hand again. She'd never wanted to chop off a limb until now, but if there was a time to start… Rowena made her exit with Gryffindor and Althea could finally breathe again. She'd been honest about going to the kitchens and eating outside so she made her way down to the other side of the basement. Several house elves practically threw themselves at her in an effort to fill her with every type of food they had available, but she took an apple and small chunk of bread before leaving.

 _Rule #4 of the Timekeeper's Code: Do not use any spells to change the past._

No one tried to stop her as she walked out the main doors and down the road. She flexed out her magic, sensing the shield and wards that protected the school. Each bite of the apple dripped a little juice onto her chin, but she ignored it. It seemed that in the hustle and bustle of running a school they hadn't kept up the maintenance on the wards to the same levels they would be in the modern day. She pulled out her wine and concentrated on connecting with the wood and core individually and then as a whole before reaching out to the shields.

First she focused on the pine, brushing her fingers over the smooth wood, and taking a deep breath. She could feel its eagerness to do magic, especially considering how little she'd been using it on the assignment, and knew that it would guide her spells with sureness. Then she reached for the unicorn hair in its depths, finding it more difficult to manage at the moment. When she'd bought the wand at Ollivander's on her eleventh birthday, she'd been told that her core came from a black unicorn and that perhaps it meant something more. Black unicorns were exceedingly rare, extremely temperamental, and difficult to work with. She wasn't sure what her core said about her.

When she was certain that she had connected with its power, she reached out to the wards and started gently probing them. It was easy to tell who had woven what parts of the protection. Rowena's work was precise brush strokes, Helga's strong bands of gold, Gryffindor's bold slashes across the sky, and Slytherin's subtle stitches to connect them all. She found a few holes in the pattern—mostly Gryffindor's fault—and started to work on fixing them.

Once that was finished she walked further down the road and noticed that the gates did not have any anti-muggle charms on them. She left the grounds, faced the iron borders, and raised her wand. The time Althea had spent with the Invisibility Task Force came in handy from time to time. She focused on creating illusions of decay, unsafe moors and bogs, and the desire to return home, to leave. If any muggle came near the ground they'd find themselves turned around without too much struggle. That way the battles that Gryffindor wanted wouldn't happen. That simple.

Crunching footsteps neared and she knew that they were for her benefit. He could be quiet if he wanted to. She didn't duck her head or shrink when Slytherin stepped out of the bushes and looked at her work.

"Have you had much practice with wards of this nature?"

She couldn't say that she'd worked on Hogwarts' wards once before. "Not quite. I find your work beautiful though."

"Just mine?"

"I meant the collection."

"Of course." He smirked. "And what magic have you done to our gates?"

"It's designed to deter muggles without harming them."

"Some would want to do them harm."

"Do you mean Master Gryffindor?" She put her wand away and picked up a nearby flower, playing with it in her hands as Slytherin watched. A breeze played through her hair, undoing the tidy braid she'd created, and ruining the overall look she was going for.

"Not at all."

"May I be forward?"

"That depends on what you ask."

"Do you despise muggles as much as Master Gryffindor seems to?" She was playing with fire by asking that direct question, but her notes were begging to be completed. If she could go back to the future with a quotation from Slytherin himself that he did not hate muggles or muggleborns then it would change everything. It might be the kind of discovery that could go beyond the Department and into the real world. She could become more famous than Bathilda Bagshot.

"What makes you think that I do?"

"I've heard rumors."

"Well," he said as he reached out an arm for her to take, "they're wrong. I have nothing against muggles. They commit horrendous crimes against us, but we do the same to them in return. It is an endless cycle of violence that I hope will one day end."

It would end in 1689 with the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy. She couldn't say that though so all she said was, "Me too."

#

She was left to her own devices for a few hours and worked on the wards a little more. The future Hogwarts wasn't much different from the one that stood before her, but she could tell that some professors and heads had added their own architectural flairs as time went on. As she was rounding the corner of the castle nearest the Forbidden Forest (which was somehow even more intimidating in this era), a figure stepped out of the trees and immediately drew their sword.

Despite watching Helga Hufflepuff for two months and being near her for longer than that it was still incredibly scary to be staring down the blade. Her golden eyes were narrowed into slits, but the blade didn't waver and neither did the black wand in her other hand. "Give me one good reason not to kill you where you stand, intruder."

"I'm a friend of Slytherin's!" It was probably a good thing she'd said his name and not Gryffindor's considering the history between the two, but it had also been the first name to pop into her head.

"That will be determined."

The sorceress lifted up her wand to shoot red sparks in the air. A second later there was a loud crack and the other three founders were standing in front of her with their wands pointed. A mere moment later Slytherin and Gryffindor had theirs lowered, but Rowena kept hers raised. Helga looked at her companions, noticed their lack of fear, and tilted her head in Althea's direction.

"Do you vouch for the girl?"

"Aye," Gryffindor said. "She's here to work on our defenses against the muggles."

"And no one thought to tell me this?" Helga put her wand in its holster, sheathed her sword, and crossed her arms over her chest. "I almost took her head off."

"Good thing you didn't," Slytherin said. "She's been of much help to us so far."

"Has she?" Rowena said as she looked up to the skies. "Nice work."

Getting a compliment from Ravenclaw was better than all of her Christmas mornings combined. Althea dipped her head. "Thank you."

"Well, I suppose we can't chit chat for long. The students are waiting." Helga started striding toward the castle, everyone falling into step behind her. "Are you coming?"

Althea nodded and rejoined the group, struggling not to be hyperaware of Gryffindor positioning himself closer to her, and walked up the steps of Hogwarts two at a time. There were a handful of students in the halls and they all turned to watch the group enter. She was sure that an extra witch must look bizarre to them, but no one said anything. They walked up the steps to the Great Hall and she wondered how many time laws she was breaking by possibly interfering in other people's timelines beyond the founders. The Baron and Lady were still figures in the modern timeline—did that mean they recognized her as a student in some way? It was hard to figure.

The four founders took their seats and Helga transfigured another for Althea. She sat down in between Gryffindor and Slytherin, feeling incredibly overwhelmed by the idea that she was about to eat a meal with the some of the greatest witches and wizards the world had ever known. Rowena raised her glass and spoke to the students.

"You may be wondering who our new guest is," she said. "May I present the Lady Althea, who will be staying with us for a little while to help protect the castle. Please treat her with the utmost respect and show her what magic Hogwarts holds!"

There was a round of polite applause before the meal appeared. Althea hadn't eaten ancient Hogwarts food in any of her research—even knowing that the house elves would gladly give it to her—and she took in the spread with a historian's eye. The food on the students' tables wasn't much different than this, although the children's wine looked watered down, and she carefully selected a cut of boar, slice of bread, and some grapes to nibble on.

Her nerves made her too nervous to eat much, especially since she could tell that everyone at the Masters' Podium was paying some kind of attention to her, but she managed to not knock anything over or embarrass herself too badly. Gryffindor kept filling up her goblet to the rim, probably in an attempt to get her drunk enough to make a terrible decision, but she vanished some of it with every sip. At one point, mid-magic, she looked over and saw Slytherin smirking in her direction.

"Your work is quite strong," Gryffindor said. "Admirable for someone of your size really."

"You are too kind," she said as her bread broke with slightly more force than necessary.

"She looks plenty strong to me," Helga said. "Do you fight?"

"Not unless it's required. I have dueled before though." In training, without intent to kill, under supervision, with a second, and basically not at all.

"You duel?" Gryffindor said. "How wonderful! Would you be interested—"

"I'm sure she has more important things to do then entertain you," Slytherin said.

"Ah, but working all the time isn't good for a person's health," Gryffindor said. She felt his hand touch her leg under the table and jumped. It caused her class to fall over, spill wine over the tablecloth, and drip onto the floor. It was also loud enough that several students started paying attention to their teachers instead of each other.

"I'm so sorry," she said, quickly vanishing the mess with a wave of her hand. "I don't know what happened."

In the time that it took for her to meet Rowena Ravenclaw's gaze she realized that she had made a key mistake. Wizards in this day and age who could do nonverbal magic were uncommon, and wizards who could do wandless magic were rare. Witches who could do nonverbal, wandless magic were like black unicorns.

"Remarkable," Gryffindor said.

"Where did you say you came from?" Helga said.

"How interesting." Rowena sipped from her goblet.

"Are you okay?" Slytherin said.

She stood there like an idiot for a full minute before shrugging and offering the largest, brightest smile possible. "Oh, just a bit of accidental magic is all! My teacher used to beat me for causing messes and I just picked it up after that."

It seemed that Helga and Gryffindor bought the lie, but she could tell Rowena and Slytherin were more skeptical. Althea took a large drink of wine, popped a grape into her mouth, and quickly changed the subject by asking Gryffindor for a retelling of his proudest moment. Then she tuned him out, focused on the issues at hand, and tried to come up with a solution.

There were thirteen days left before she returned to modern time. She didn't know how long she could keep up this lie, and it was risky to keep adding onto it. Since leaving the castle wasn't possible thanks to Gryffindor's interest, she had to stay. That didn't mean she couldn't avoid being near the man whenever possible. He hadn't seemed so…intense when she'd observed him during the winter. He'd hunted creatures in the Forbidden Forest, dueled countless opponents, and once driven out some barbarians from a nearby muggle village.

She would have to play along, continue to work on the wards, and stay in her room at all other times. It wouldn't be a pleasant way to pass the time, and she couldn't continue her work observing Slytherin when he seemed so tuned to her presence now, but there was no other choice. She'd have to let Croaker know that the assignment had been compromised, use what research she already had to compose her findings, and then give up on finding out the truth beyond speculation. It created a hard lump in her stomach.

The students filed out of the Great Hall after the meal followed by the founders. Rowena went up toward the left corridor and Helga back out to the grounds. That left Althea standing uncomfortably between Gryffindor and Slytherin, waiting for one or both of them to leave. They didn't.

"Well… I guess I'll turn in for the night," she said.

Gryffindor smiled. "Are you so sure you wouldn't like a nightcap? The office is much warmer than those damp dungeons."

She nodded. "I'm sure that I'll be fine. I guess working on the wards took more out of me than I thought."

"Of course, of course. Doing such high level magic can be tiring for those not used to it."

If Gryffindor had any the idea of what kind of magic she could do he wouldn't say that. Still, she smiled and curtseyed like a good witch of lower station and walked toward the dungeons. A few seconds later, footsteps echoed behind her and she stopped. Salazar Slytherin did as well.

"Are you following me?"

"Not particularly."

"Then why are you going this way instead of up?"

"My rooms are down here, as are my students." He gave her a confused look and she realized that she shouldn't know why he would even go upstairs. She wasn't supposed to know about the Chamber. No one did.

"Of course. I thought you'd be joining Master Gryffindor."

"No need to be so formal; we're alone."

"Do you not like him?"

"It's complicated," he said as they started walking again. His robes swished gently against the stones and she noticed that his boots had mud on them. She recognized it from the Chamber and wondered when he'd had time to visit since she'd arrived.

"He's your friend."

"Yes."

"But you don't like him?"

"I said it's complicated."

"And you're not going to tell me?"

Slytherin stopped and gripped her wrist in the same movement. He turned her around and stared in her eyes. She felt a sharp probe tap at her mind and immediately threw up all of her defenses. Occlumency was a last-minute defense against intrusion, but she hadn't been prepared to go up against a founder. It was tempting to let down her guard when the needlepoint dulled to a gentle brush against her mind. It was like stroking a book's spine and the desire to just let him in was overwhelming. A nail bit into the skin of her palm and she reinforced the barriers. Within seconds, he was out and she was kneeling on the cold ground.

He looked down his sharp nose at her and she held back the urge to curse. Instead she stood up, smoothed her dress, and strode toward her room without saying another word. Her assumptions about Salazar Slytherin might have been wrong. It seemed that if he could invade another person's mind without warrant or warning then he could just as possibly be the man who created a legacy of hatred. He could be the man everyone thought he was.

* * *

 **Please Review!**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Thank you for all the love you've been giving Timekeeper. In return, here's a new chapter.**

 **Anything you recognize (setting, characters, etc.) belongs to J.K. Rowling. Everything else is mine.**

 **Please read and review!**

* * *

Chapter Five

It had been three days since Slytherin had attempted to invade her mind, and Althea could not get him out of her head. Every time she tried to focus on working with the wards he was there. Every moment spent avoiding Godric fucking Gryffindor and he was there. Even when they were in the same room and not speaking to each other he was there. She couldn't escape him.

It had to be some kind of advanced Legilimency, one that had been banned in the future and lost as a magic form, because she didn't have a clue how to stop it. He was even infiltrating her dreams! What few hours of good sleep she got were shared with the same person she was trying to avoid while awake. It was torture.

And it didn't help that she could tell he knew he was getting to her, and so did Rowena in some way. The dark-haired woman had more than once asked her about her 'relationship' with the man, and she'd been forced to constantly say there was nothing there. But…there was? Althea couldn't deny that despite his blatant disregard for her mental boundaries and his perpetual presence there was a part of her that wanted it. She wanted the attention of this mysterious and legendary person because it meant she was worthy of it in some way.

It was sick and twisted to think like that, but she'd had a lot of practice analyzing her feelings and thoughts in the therapy the Ministry paid for. Dr. Laurie was a great witch, renowned in the field of magical psychiatry, but she wasn't paid enough to hear all everything that Althea had to say. So they'd spent most of her sessions talking about her childhood, the effect her parents had had on her choices, and ignoring the elephant in the room of her adventures through time. It was easier that way.

What was not easier was being forced to abandon her research because she'd been discovered. Althea liked finishing projects, and leaving this one undone for the rest of eternity was not sitting well. She'd spent a good part of her sleepless nights thinking of ways to convince Croaker she could come back on assignment, but it would probably never happen. There were too many risks associated with sending a Timekeeper back into a time when they either existed or were known. It would just have to be a loose end.

Sighing, Althea stared at the hill where the Whomping Willow would later be planted and was surprised to see Rowena sitting on a bench in that exact spot. Unsure of what to do, she was about to go back into the castle and hide in her room for the rest of the day when the founder made a come-hither movement of her fingers. Rowena was the most observant of the four, and she was the one that Althea worked the hardest to maintain her mask around.

"Good afternoon, Lady Althea. Done for the day are we?" She dipped her head, diadem glinting in the sunshine, and smiled.

"I think there isn't much more I can do. The work on the wards was not as incomplete as I had assumed." It had taken two days to fix what Gryffindor had done, and only a day and a half to moderately muggle-proof the grounds without using too much modern magic.

"So you will be leaving us then?"

"It would be best. I believe I've disrupted enough as it is."

"Nonsense. We enjoy your company," she said. "Besides, I haven't seen Godric pitch this much woo since Helga and I find it amusing."

"I'm just shiny and new is all."

"That you are." Her gaze passed over Althea before resting on the book in her lap. It was bound with some kind of skin, and she could feel the magic wards surrounding it. An odd runic design was etched on the cover, but it wasn't one Althea was familiar with. Curiosity roared to life within, but she kept her mouth shut. "Will you be joining us for supper this evening?"

"Oh, I couldn't—"

"I insist. You spend far too much time holed up in that closet. It must be awfully unstimulating for someone with a mind like yours."

"A mind like mine?" Was Rowena a Legilimens too? Had she been looking all this time without Althea realizing it? Had the future been seriously compromised?

"I see myself in you from time to time," the woman said, "and I know that I would be bored if I was you."

"Well," Althea said, "if you insist."

"I do. You can sit between Helga and me instead of the men this time. That should give you some form of peace…at least during the meal."

"Thank you."

Rowena nodded and stood, holding the book in her hand tightly, before making her way toward the castle. Althea stayed on the bench and looked at the grand building, noting the structural differences. A large quarter of the castle had been rebuilt after the Battle of Hogwarts in 1998 and modern amenities had been added here and there, but it wasn't much different. Tradition was important to the school, and no one wanted to be the one to break that.

 _Rule #5 of the Timekeeper's Code: If the assignment is compromised do not attempt to interfere._

 _Go with the flow of time._

Dinner was more or less the same as it had been the first time, but it was easier to sit with the women than in between the two men. Gryffindor and Slytherin were having a somewhat heated debate on what to do with the nearby muggles, but it wasn't to the point where the other founders needed to join in. Althea was stuck in a conversation about the benefits of goblin-made weaponry in tandem with the use of magic, otherwise known as Helga's favored fighting style. Rowena, according to Helga, was being stubborn in her strict only-magic policy and Althea, according to Helga, was weak as a newborn babe without any real fighting experience.

"I could train you," she said, "in three days. You wouldn't be up to my standards, of course, but most of my students have the same potential I see in you."

"I thank you, but I really must be leaving soon."

"Three days more won't be that much of a trouble," Rowena said. "You are still our guest and are welcome to stay as long as you like."

"I couldn't possibly—"

"What if you get attacked by a hoard of muggles on your way home, eh? You might have magic, but what good is it if they carve an arrow through your breast before you speak?"

"Even I have rudimentary battle skills," Rowena said. "Training the body as well as the brain is a must for any true witch."

"Are you a true witch, Lady Althea?" Helga said as she lifted up her goblet. She drank heavily before slamming it down on the table. "Or are you a coward?"

The use of the C-word, as predicted, caused Gryffindor to stop talking with Slytherin and start paying attention to their conversation. If there was anything that was guaranteed to make Gryffindor's blood boil it was being called a coward. If he heard the word he wanted to fight. It was that simple.

"Who's a coward?" he said, grasping the hilt of hilt of his sword.

"We were just asking Lady Althea if she knew how to fight non-magically," Rowena said. "Helga finds her lacking."

There was a quiet chuckle from the end of the table and Althea threw a glare in Slytherin's direction. What did he find so funny? He was the thinnest of the group and probably couldn't pick up a bowtruckle with those arms he kept hidden under robes. What did he know about fighting?

"I could train you, fair lady! My sword skills are renowned throughout the land." Gryffindor wasn't just talking about his weapon, and the urge to puke passed over her.

"How kind of you," she said, "but Mistress Hufflepuff has already made the offer. I believe that it's first come, first served."

Helga laughed at that, spilling some wine as she did, and Gryffindor's face changed for a moment. It was like one moment he was the man she knew, and the next a complete stranger. Still, she recognized the look from one of her other assignments. It was the kind of look that Waldo Pratt would later give Helena Ravenclaw—a promise of lust and murder.

Then the look was gone and she had to wonder if she'd imagined it. Gryffindor battled evil wizards and dangerous muggles, not his friends, and she'd be stupid to think otherwise. No, it was the person at the end of the table who was the real threat. Any day now he would have his duel with Gryffindor and storm out of the castle, never to be seen again. It was just a waiting game to see if it would still happen while she was in the past.

#

Althea was forced into joining the founders in the Head office for mead and cakes. By forced, she meant that both Helga and Gryffindor had gripped an arm and practically dragged her up the stairs while Rowena and Slytherin smirked behind them. Then Helga had conjured up another chair, squeezed it at the table, and put her next to Slytherin for laughs. The badger was definitely not kind-hearted like everyone thought.

The map she'd seen on her first visit was rolled up to the side to make room for drinks and food, but she could see a newer roll of parchment nearby with a familiar title. If she wanted to learn anything about the dynamics between the four and what would be their breaking point it was going to take some help. "What's this?"

Slytherin visibly paled for a moment before yanking it out of her hand. "It's nothing."

"Doesn't look like nothing to me," Helga said.

"Is that the proposal you were speaking about?" The parchment appeared in Rowena's hand a moment later. "Oh Salazar, you bleeding heart."

"What? What is it?" Gryffindor said as he struggled to see it from his seat.

"The Benefits of Squib Education at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry," Rowena read.

For a moment, Althea felt ashamed of what she'd done because Slytherin looked like he wanted to choke her. But since the parchment had been in the office in the first place she didn't see what was wrong with bringing it up. If he wanted it kept secret then he should've left it in his Chamber. Gryffindor laughed like the title was the funniest thing he'd ever heard, and even Hufflepuff chuckled.

"What is it about?" Althea said. Since she hadn't been able to read much more of his rough draft than the title she still wasn't certain why squibs were so important in this era. Even in modern times few people cared, despite the recent Squib Rights Act making it to the Minister for future approval.

"Salazar," Gryffindor said in between laughter, "thinks that squibs should be allowed to attend Hogwarts and learn magic."

"Squibs can't perform magic!" Helga said it like the punchline of a joke. It seemed that in this matter, for once, Gryffindor and Hufflepuff were on the same page.

"It doesn't say anything about teaching them magic," Rowena said. Her eyes trailed down the parchment. "It merely argues that because of their status as non-magical beings who know of magic they should be allowed to be a part of our world instead of ostracized."

"Squibs are just basically muggles," Gryffindor said. "Not useful at all."

"Besides," Helga added, "they aren't strong enough to keep up with the other students."

"They can just live with the muggles."

"But aren't squibs the ones who are killed by the muggles for witchcraft?" Althea said. It probably wasn't the smartest thing to say in this era, considering that muggles killing wizards was a real threat, but it had to be said. She'd studied the time period day in and out for almost a year before being allowed to come here, and hindsight (or research) was 20/20.

"You're correct," Slytherin said. "My _friends_ don't see that as a problem."

"It's essentially muggles killing other muggles," Gryffindor said. "Not any of our concern."

"When the heir of an ancient family is cast out because she can't do magic and later hanged because of it, the blood is on our hands—not the muggles."

"What happened to the Arthur girl is tragic, yes, but it's simply nature's way of culling. Only the strongest families survive, and our pureblood will protect those too weak."

"Are muggles not weak, Godric?" Slytherin said. His hand was clenched into a fist and Althea could feel his body shaking. Dark magic radiated off of his skin and she felt sick. It had been a terrible idea to bring this topic up.

How could these wizards know that future muggle-borns were descended from squibs? It hadn't been discovered until 2005 when bio-magical advancements and genetic testing became available to witches and wizards. They thought people without magic would never have it, but that wasn't true.

"Muggles kill wizards, Salazar! Or have you forgotten what happened to my family?" The scarlet wizard stood, holding out his wand, and shook with rage.

"No one has forgotten what happened," Rowena said with perfect calm. "We will never forget. Salazar has simply idealized the situation again."

"Things will never change unless we do something," he said.

"It's too dangerous to do anything right now," Helga said. "But future generations will thank us for being cautious when they thrive because we survived."

"I can't believe this." Slytherin stood, grabbed the parchment out of Rowena's hands, and left. In less than ten minutes, Althea had ruined everything. It was almost a new record.

"I apologize for his behavior," Gryffindor said. "Sometimes he doesn't think things through."

"No it's… I shouldn't have said anything."

"Curiosity is nothing to be ashamed of," Rowena said. "We would've had this discussion sooner or later."

"He picks the wrong kind of fights." Helga stood up and pointed at Althea. "But that doesn't mean you can't. Meet me at sunrise tomorrow in front of the forest. Don't be late."

"But I—"

"Don't disappoint me."

Helga left the room and went toward the basement to be with her students. At the same time, Rowena stood and said goodnight. That left Althea alone with Godric Gryffindor, man of gargantuan pride.

"I'm sorry you had to see his bad side," he said as he moved closer. "The man doesn't know when to hold his tongue."

"I can understand that."

"Do you feel for these muggles and squibs as he does?"

There wasn't really a way to be politically correct in this situation. So she smiled, tilted her head to the side, and lied her ass off. "I am sorry that they are so weak compared to people like us, and it isn't right that they should be allowed to kill their betters."

Years of bureaucracy and being around a few traditional purebloods had paid off. Gryffindor smiled and reached out to grab her hand. It was abnormally warm, mildly sweaty, and just an overall terrible experience. "Truer words have never been said, my Lady. If it pleases you would you care to join me in my chambers?"

"I'm afraid that the argument has exhausted me. I should retire."

"You could retire with me. I promise nothing untoward."

"What would the others think?" she said. There had to be a way to get out of this.

"I am a man free to do what I wish. You are free to do the same."

"Thank you, but I must decline."

"How about something else instead? Go hunting with me tomorrow."

"I can't hunt and I have training with Mistress Hufflepuff."

"After your training I can teach you," he said.

Part of her wanted to give into that smile and go along with it. It would be easier to play with rather than against him, but it wouldn't be fun. "That sounds wonderful. I look forward to it."

"As do I."

He gave her yet another unpleasant kiss on the hand before going letting her leave. Running through the corridors to the dungeons wasn't fast enough. It was enough for her not to pay attention to the surroundings and be completely caught off guard by a hand jerking her into a room. A soft hand covered her mouth as glacier-blue eyes stared. When it seemed he was sure she wasn't going to scream he let go.

"Why?" he said.

"Why what?"

"Why did you do that?"

"I'm sorry! I didn't know it would cause so much trouble."

He pushed her against the wall, pinning her down with more than his gaze. "You are trouble."

"I never said I wasn't."

He sighed and backed off, running a hand through his hair and messing it up. "What you said…did you mean it?"

"I've said a lot of things—you'll have to be more specific."

"I can tell that you share my feelings about squibs and muggles, but do you mean it or are you just acting? Godric seems to think you're on his side."

"Why do there have to be sides?"

"There will always be sides. Which do you choose?"

She shrugged. "It depends on the hour."

"At least you're honest," he said. He paused a moment before looking out the window and shifting his weight. She knew this posturing. He'd used it with Rowena a few times during her observation. "I'm sorry…about before. It was rude."

"It was."

"I had no right."

"You didn't."

"But I had to know if you were a spy."

"A spy? I'd be stupid to come here if I were."

"Generally speaking, anyone in possession of an invisibility cloak could be a spy."

"I'm not a spy."

He crossed his arms and shrugged. "My apology still stands, even if my reasoning was sound."

"Apology accepted."

Getting an apology from Slytherin for invading her mind was not one of her life goals, but maybe it should have been. There was something satisfying about it, about being right.

"You should rest," he said. "Training with Helga will not be an easy task."

"I never thought it would be."

"Somehow I'm not surprised. You seem prepared for almost everything…as if you already know."

She could probably pretend to be a seer and have people buy it, but the consequences on the past could be catastrophic. It was better to play it off, go with the flow of time. Playing with her sleeve, she smiled a little.

"I'm just on guard."

"Even around Godric?"

"Why do you care?"

His face fell for a moment, that careful calm breaking, but he covered it up with a smile. "I don't."

And then he walked away.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Here's your weekly taste of the past.**

 **Anything you recognize (characters, setting, etc.) belongs to J.K. Rowling. Everything else is mine.**

 **Please read, enjoy, and review.**

* * *

Chapter Six

Althea spent most of her night pacing the floor, worry about training with Helga and her 'date' with Gryffindor and her conversation with Slytherin, and she had about thirty minutes of rest before the sun rose. She made up for it with a quick dose of Pepper-Up Potion and changed the appearance of her suit. Helga probably wouldn't mind a woman in trousers—she seemed progressive for her time—so Althea smoothed them out as well as the purple tunic. At this point she might as well get her own House.

Double-checking the Time-Turner and her wand, she plaited her hair and walked out. The entire castle seemed to be asleep and the only sound was the gentle creaking of the few suits of armor along the hall. She pushed open one of the large doors and stepped out into the already-warm air. A short jog to the edge of the forest later and she was face-to-face with Helga Hufflepuff, who was sitting on a stone and sharpening her blade.

"Good! You're on time; I like that," she said.

It seemed that they'd had the same idea, because Helga was also wearing trousers and had completely pulled her hair up and out of her face. It made her look fierce and fearless, and Althea wished that she could be the same. Maybe lessons with Helga wouldn't be that bad, maybe she'd learn valuable skills for the future, and maybe it would make her a better witch.

"I'm afraid that I don't have a weapon."

"It's fine," she said as she tossed a sword, "You can use my old one."

The 'old' one weighed more than it looked like and Althea could already feel unused muscles straining. Sure, she had field training just like everyone else at the Ministry, but that didn't mean she had the same physical requirements as an Auror. Harry Potter had biceps; Althea Thatcher did not.

"You're a bit weaker than I thought. What do you do in your free time? It seems as if you lift nothing more than books."

"That's fairly accurate."

"We'll fix that. Get a feel for the sword, it's an extension of your will, your body," she said, "but we won't be starting there."

"Where are we starting?"

"It does well to know how to fight, but retreat is another option that most forget. Your arms aren't that impressive, but how are your legs?" The witch's smile stretched across her face, and Althea got the distinct impression she wasn't going to like what followed.

#

She couldn't feel her body. There was a vague notion that she had limbs and that they were capable of movement, but that also seemed impossible. Luckily, it was a warm enough day so she could just lay on the grass and die quietly.

Helga was laughing in the distance and she could hear someone else approaching, but it was too exhausting to open her eyes. The footfalls were heavy—male—and she could also hear the quiet swish of soft fabric over the grass. That meant that it had to be Slytherin, and that he could definitely see her most embarrassing and weakest moment in full definition. If she wasn't so dead to the world she would care more about the sweat that soaked her body, the fact her face was as red as Gryffindor's banner, and that she was decidedly unattractive.

"I see your training is going well."

"What is your scale of 'well'?" she said.

"Not dead yet."

"Then yes, it's going well."

"The girl has some talent," Helga said, "but there is much work to be done before she'll become a warrior."

Althea opened her eyes and realized that Slytherin was much closer than she'd initially thought. He was looking down at her in wry amusement and she resisted the urge to flip him off with what little strength she had. He probably wouldn't know what it meant anyway.

"I'm not warrior material," she said.

"That's what they all say. Then destiny comes calling."

"I don't think he'll be seeing me anytime soon."

"She might," Helga said, smiling, "and sooner than you think."

Slytherin was still smiling that same frustratingly attractive smile and she resisted the urge to kick him and bring him down to her level. Instead she used her elbows to lift up a little bit, and fixed him with her fiercest glare. "What are you doing here?"

"Can't a gentleman just a take a walk?"

Helga laughed. "Can't say I see a gentleman."

"Fine then. I've been sent as an errand boy."

"For what?"

"Godric wishes me to remind Lady Althea that they have an outstanding hunting party to attend." Slytherin's face pinched at some thought before he schooled his face into an expression void of any emotion. "I am to see what is taking her so long and escort her back to the castle."

"I'm not in any condition for a hunt," Althea said. "Delicate disposition and all."

"Hush, child, you're fine. Go appease the beast." Helga took the sword from the ground near Althea and sheathed it. It looked like she'd hardly broken a sweat through the four kilometer run, the tree climbing in the Forbidden Forest, and the sword training. She'd done it all without even a milliliter of magic.

"Do I have to do this again tomorrow?" Rest sounded like the best thing in the world. Hunting with Gryffindor was definitely the worst.

"Practice until it's perfect."

Slytherin nodded and then offered his hand to help her up. She wanted to turn it down based on stubbornness and pride, but she was so goddamn tired that it didn't matter. When their hands touched there was that vague spark again, but it was gone as soon as she stood up and let go. He almost looked disappointed.

She curtseyed to Helga, calves aching in protest, and followed the serpent back to the castle. He didn't say anything for the first few moments, but broke the silence before she could. Althea hated quiet. "How did you find training?"

"To be honest? It was better than I thought it would be. I figured I'd have to fight a dragon or something."

"No, that's day three."

If someone had told Althea that Slytherin had a sense of humor she wouldn't have believed them. Seeing it in action didn't make it any more believable. She tried to hide her smile but couldn't.

"You have a lovely smile," he said. "You should do it more often."

"Maybe you should take your own advice."

He dipped his head, but moments later frowned. "I'm assuming the hunting trip was Godric's idea?"

"It was."

"And you're still going?"

"Well, there's not much of a choice is there? I can't simply say no to Godric Gryffindor."

"You can though," he said. "Godric isn't god."

She gave a small laugh that sounded pathetic and weak even to her. "I might as well amuse him while I'm here."

"When are you leaving?" he asked.

"I have nine more days."

"You make it sound so certain. Is it not your own decision to leave?"

"It's…complicated."

He raised an eyebrow. "How so?"

"I can't say."

They walked through the doors and she froze as she felt his hand wrap around her wrist. "Who exactly are you?"

She smiled. "Just a witch who knows wards."

#

After casting a quick Cleansing Charm, transfiguring her suit once again, and deciding to leave her hair down for once Althea grabbed her wand and walked out to meet Gryffindor. He was waiting in the corridor, looking dashing and grand in scarlet robes, and he bowed. "My Lady, I heard your training went well."

"That's one way to put it."

"Sometimes Helga's methods are too unrefined for my taste—no class that woman—but she has her uses. I'm glad you find her to your liking though."

"Yes, I do."

"How can a girl from Romania never learn to hunt?"

"Oh, we keep our traditions close. I spent more time over a cauldron than on a horse." This was technically true because no one rode horses in the modern times.

"Pity," he said. "Perhaps I'll have to show you how to ride."

"I'm a quick learner; I'll figure it out."

He smiled and offered his arm, which she took, and then they walked out to the stables. There were all kinds of creatures in them, more than just horses, and she wasn't that surprised to see a thestral right next to a unicorn. Gryffindor pulled out a bay and selected a gray one for her. After getting a feel for the animal and making sure the saddle was on properly, she mounted with minimal help from Gryffindor.

They rode off into the afternoon sun, past the Forbidden Forest, and crested a hill near the lake. A herd of deer grazed contently in the distance and she watched as Gryffindor pulled out a bow and nocked an arrow. Part of her wanted to be horrified by what he was doing, but she'd watched him do it a bunch of times before and knew that he would always find his mark. Whether it was magic or actual skill she didn't know.

"Most of the food we eat comes from my kills, you know," he said. "I always share my bounty."

"How kind of you."

"It's the right thing to do."

He took a deep breath and loosed the arrow. It sang through the air before striking one of the hinds. It fell to the ground, the rest of the herd bolting, and Gryffindor killed two more as they ran. He smiled at her, wind blowing in his hair, and she could see what others saw in the man. Althea could admit he was charismatic and charming, brave and righteous, but something about him didn't sit right and she didn't know what it was.

"Shall we go?" he said.

She nodded and they rode down the hill. One of the bucks he'd scored wasn't fully dead, and he did the merciful thing and slit its throat. He shrank the corpses and put them in a small sack that had bloodstains on the bottom. Apparently it was his trophy bag as he held it up for her to smile and clap at. The man wanted to be adored and fawned over at every moment. It was damn exhausting.

The fact that she knew just what lines to say was a testament to her observational skills. Watching Gryffindor for two months had been a bore, because he was exactly what he seemed. Still…was there a chance that in the privacy of his rooms he was a different man? She'd never followed a founder into their private studies before Slytherin, mostly because she didn't have a clue where the others' were. Slytherin's was public domain, but was her assignment unfinished because she hadn't looked for the other three?

Well, the mission would be unfinished anyway thanks to Slytherin.

Gryffindor rode closer until his leg was just brushing against hers. His hand reached over and plucked something near her head before holding it out. "It seems beauty follows you wherever you go."

It was a few rose petals and she immediately suspected that he'd done it himself just for the line, but she smiled all the same and thanked him as he transfigured it into a whole flower. The fact that it was a bright, striking red didn't escape her notice. Then, getting too close yet again, he threaded the flower into her hair and smiled. He could be quite handsome and she should be attracted to him—he was her type—but something held her back.

He had striking green eyes like sea glass, subtle stubble on his face from a few days without a shave, and a scar above his eye. She'd never noticed it before and couldn't hold back her question. "May I ask where you got that scar?"

His eyes darkened for a moment, but then he flashed a blinding smile. "In one of my more challenging duels, I'm afraid. But I won the day after a well-timed Killing Curse."

The fact that Godric Gryffindor, champion of the bravest and 'best' house, had used the Killing Curse in a duel was kind of shocking, but this was a different time and place. The Unforgiveables were forgivable in the right situations. The laws and regulations around them had been played with and changed in the nineteen years following Voldemort's downfall, but she still couldn't imagine someone speaking so casually about killing someone in her time. Even Harry Potter, patron saint of chosen ones, seemed to regret the people he'd killed. She could see it in his eyes when they passed in the hall, when they were blasted over the front page of the _Prophet_ with the headline "Potter Hunts for Dark Wizards."

"And you came away the hero," she said.

"I'm always the hero. Will you let me be yours?"

There were two things she knew about Gryffindor: 1) he loved the chase and 2) he looked for new prey as soon as the first was caught. If she let him catch her this early then where would she be in nine days? It would be better to continue being coy. She smiled, dug her heels into the horse, and took off. A few seconds later she heard him follow.

 _Rule #6 of the Timekeeper's Code: Do not touch anyone from the past._

She was using magic to stay on the horse, but she knew she was going to be sore tomorrow anyway. The pounding of hooves, the sunshine brushing over her face, and the wind rushing through her hair made her heart race, and it wasn't long before she crested the hill near the lake. It spread out like a great expanse, the castle in the distance, and she felt a moment of brief peace staring at it all. Hogwarts was a home to everyone within its walls, but it seemed that even after she'd been gone it still was. It had been five years since her graduation, but she kept finding excuses to come back. If the future wouldn't let her then the past would.

"It's beautiful isn't it?" Gryffindor said as he pulled his horse to a halt beside her and dismounted. "I find myself wondering how I had a hand in creating such a thing more often than not."

He offered her a hand and she begrudgingly allowed him to help her down. "It's one of the most beautiful things I've seen."

"I agree."

"You're not even looking at the lake."

"I know."

She could feel his eyes on her and felt drawn to meet them. They were hypnotic, charming, and the incoming sunset brought new color to them. His hand traced her jaw, his thumb barely touching her lips before it was replaced by his lips.

She wanted to hate it—hate him—but there was some part of her that hadn't been kissed in so long and was dying to be touched in this way. Dr. Laurie would say that the part of her that wanted attention and notice from the higher-ups was the same that didn't object to Gryffindor's lips. That and the fact that, like everything, he excelled at it.

If she closed her eyes and didn't think about the fact she was making out with Godric fucking Gryffindor then she could fully enjoy it. There was just enough pressure and passion, and she could tell that he was holding back. One of his hands rested on her hip, but didn't stray further and for a bizarre second she wished that it would.

Salazar Slytherin's face flashed in her mind and she immediately broke away from Gryffindor. He smiled and cupped her face. "My Lady is too kind."

"I am in debt for your kindness, Master Gryffindor."

"Didn't I tell you to call me by my given name?"

"And I said that I couldn't." She wouldn't.

"You are a strange witch, Lady Althea," he said, "but I find that an intriguing quality."

"Thank you."

"Shall we return? Dinner will be served shortly."

"Food sounds amazing," she said. Her stomach agreed with loud affirmation.

He laughed and helped her back up on the grey horse before remounting. "That it does."

They rode back to the castle as the sun finished setting, arriving at the door just as night fell, and they handed the horses over to a house elf. Another of the small creatures took Gryffindor's kills to the kitchen and she cast a quick Cleansing Charm to get rid of more sweat and dirt. In the hallway, Godric grabbed her hand and pulled her close before kissing her once more.

"My Lady, would you do me the honor of sitting beside me and drinking from my cup?"

She knew that the ritual held more meaning than it would in the future, but she wasn't sure if she was willing to commit that much to the charade. She dipped her head and looked up at him through her eyelashes. "I will only do one of those…for now."

His smile faded for a moment, but he bowed all the same. "You play games, Lady Althea, but are you sure you can afford to lose?"

"I won't."

#

After dinner—yet another challenge to go through—Althea made her way to the dungeons, free of Gryffindor for the first time in hours. He'd talked her ear off for the entire meal and ignored the glares that Slytherin had been sending their way. She'd seen every one and couldn't help but think about the fact that he'd popped into her head while she was kissing Gryffindor. That probably meant something, but she didn't want to dwell on it.

As she rounded the corner toward her room, she bumped into yet another person. Except this time it wasn't Salazar Slytherin; it was Waldo Pratt. He jumped back as if he'd been burned, dipped into a low bow, and stuttered out an apology.

"It's alright," she said. "No harm, no foul."

"Master Slytherin would have my neck for being impolite to a lady."

She took a moment to study the future Baron as he did the same in turn. It was hard to see how one day this scrawny, weak-looking teen would become the man who killed Helena Ravenclaw. It didn't seem like he had it in him, but she knew different. Something would set him on the path of the murderer, but it hadn't happened yet.

Before she'd been assigned to study the founders, she'd been given the relatively simple task of finding out the mystery of the Grey Lady and Bloody Baron. At first it had seemed straight forward, but—as with all things—nothing was ever set in stone. She'd watched, hidden under her Cloak, as Waldo Pratt followed Helena to Albania and confronted her about her mother's diadem. It was honor and duty that everyone believed sent him, but it had really been love.

"We could run away together," he'd said. "No one would ever have to know. No one could find us."

"Why would I run away with you?" Helena had replied. She looked so much like her mother, but was haughtier and held things over others' heads.

"We love each other."

"I don't love you."

A few seconds later and Waldo Pratt was lost in another one of his rages. It only ended when Helena's blank eyes stared up at the night sky and his cloak was covered in her blood. Althea could still hear his screams sometimes. It was a sound she'd never forget.

She'd seen some beautiful things as a Timekeeper: sunsets over the Thames with Newt Scamander, the pyramids of Egypt during an equinox with Miranda Goshawk, the ruins of Stonehenge with Bathilda Bagshot. She'd also witnessed horrible events such as the murder of Helena Ravenclaw. Sometimes she lost sleep and sometimes she didn't.

Waldo Pratt as a teen didn't look like the same man who had killed Ravenclaw's daughter, but that didn't change the fact he would become that person. He had a crooked smile and watery blue eyes, but he was still just a boy.

"May I ask your name?" she said.

"Waldo Pratt, if it pleases you madam." He bowed again. She had a feeling that he did that a lot.

"A pleasure to make your acquaintance. Where were you heading?"

"The library. I have a Charms exam tomorrow and Master Gryffindor tends to favor his own house. It isn't fair, but Master Slytherin says we must do our best anyway." He bit his lip. "I shouldn't have said that."

"It's alright; I won't tell anyone."

"Promise?"

"I promise. Why do you care so much about Charms anyway? I've heard how well you do in Dark Arts."

His face flushed as he shuffled his feet. She wondered what was so difficult for him to say. He tried to speak a few times, starting then stopping, before finally finding his words.

"I want to help other people, and you can't really do that with curses and hexes. I'd like to teach." He said it as if it were his darkest secret.

She smiled and reached out to touch his arm, whether it was proper or not. "Then damn Gryffindor and do your best to become a professor. I think you'd make a great one."

"Well…you don't really know anything, do you?"

"I'm not saying that I do; I'm just saying you should at least try. It's good to have ambitions and dreams—they'll take you places, I promise."

Waldo looked up at her and gave a small smile. "You sound like Master Slytherin."

"I don't know whether that's a compliment or not."

He shrugged. How did a completely normal boy become the Baron? It couldn't be as simple as love. Maybe there were more answers in the past that she wasn't seeing.

"I don't say things I don't mean, madam," he said. "Master Slytherin taught me that."

"It was a pleasure meeting you, Pratt," she said. "You should study now so you can best all the odds."

"I will. Thank you, Lady Althea!" He ran down the corridor, leaving her to go just a bit further to her door. As she passed Slytherin's quarters there was a slight sound, as if someone had been standing near the door and stepped back. When she looked down there was movement as he stepped away from the light. Had he been listening? Why did she care?

"I don't," she said.

There were only nine days left to learn what she could about the founders. After that…it would all be over. She'd never come back.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Thanks for the amazing reviews and all the love. In return, here's some love for you all.**

 **Anything you recognize (characters, setting, etc.) belongs to J.K. Rowling. Everything else is mine.**

 **Please read, enjoy, and review.**

* * *

Chapter Seven

Althea Thatcher rolled out of bed at sunrise, dressed for another day of training, and made her way to the edge of the forest. The sun was already warming up the earth and she shrugged off her cloak as soon as she saw the badger witch. The woman smiled and clapped her hands. "I almost believed you would not come! Getting back up is the toughest part."

"I didn't know I had a choice."

"There's always a choice."

"What are we doing today?" She started stretching, noting how everything hurt, but that she already felt stronger.

"We'll warm up with a good run, practice swordplay for a good portion, and cool down with a swim in the lake."

"But…isn't the lake dangerous?"

"Only if you're unprepared." The witch smiled and pulled Althea up. "Shall we begin?"

"Might as well."

They started at a brisk jog and muscles Althea hadn't known existed woke up. They went around the edge of the lake, toward the hill where she'd kissed Gryffindor the day before, and then went faster once they went past the tall oak. She'd heard stories about how the Quidditch players trained in a similar fashion, but that was for sport not survival. The only exception was Victor Krum who Althea was certain would be a Hufflepuff in this day and age. Helga would've loved him.

Birds flew out of the trees as they passed by, and an oak full of bowtruckles buzzed with energy when they got too close. Coming out of the forest and back to the other edge, Helga sped up and Althea struggled to keep pace. She looked up at the looming castle and saw a figure standing in one of the tower windows. From the distance it was hard to be certain who it was, but it seemed like Gryffindor was in the same tower as the Headmaster's Office.

"Keep up!"

Althea tried to ignore Gryffindor and sprinted to catch up. By the time they got back to their starting point, her lungs were burnings and her legs felt like jelly. Helga, of course, seemed barely affected by the exercise and immediately picked up the training sword. Althea managed to catch it before it took off her foot, but the blisters on her hands from the day before ached. She'd completely forgotten to heal them.

"In starting position," Helga instructed. "Go through each for me and then we'll spar."

Althea shifted from her loose stance to defense to offense and back and forth for five minutes before the witch was satisfied. Then she unsheathed her sword, the black hilt glinting, and came at Althea. There was barely time to lift up the blade and block, but she managed to do it. Then she had to fend off another attack and another and another before Helga disarmed her and pushed her down, the sword at her throat.

"You lasted longer that time," she said. "An overnight success."

"Hardly. I failed in under a minute."

"A minute against me is ten to a lesser opponent."

When put like that Althea felt a little more confident in her abilities. She picked up the sword, stood up, and got into position. "Again?"

Helga smirked. "Again."

Nearly two hours later, the women put down their swords and undressed. No one at the Ministry would believe that Althea went skinny-dipping with Helga Hufflepuff, but she figured it was one thing that could be left out of her report. No one really needed to know that Helga was muscled and covered with scars all over her body. It wasn't important to the history.

There wasn't really a way to be completely calm in the lake when Althea knew that there was not only a giant squid, but mermaids and grindylows as well. There were probably more creatures in the water than in the Forbidden Forest. Helga seemed perfectly at ease and stopped more than once to speak Mermish into the water. That, at least, was worth noting.

They didn't swim for too long because Althea cramped up about a half hour after they got in. When they got back to the shore, she put her robes on and walked with Helga into the castle. Like clockwork, Gryffindor appeared and stooped to a low bow. "Lovely ladies! How was your training?"

"Much improved. I suspect that we will finish on time."

"At least I can move today."

Gryffindor smiled and reached out to tug at a wet tendril of Althea's hair. "And a swim as well. Perfect nymphs you must have been."

Helga was having none of it. She slapped Gryffindor's hand away and rested her hand on the hilt of her sword. "Perhaps you should tend to your students. I heard Macmillan's been having some trouble following the rules."

"My students are none of you concern."

"They are all our students."

"My House, my rules," he said. "Remember that, Helga."

He gave a curt nod in Althea's direction before striding away. The badger witch seemed ruffled and sighed before letting go of her sword. "Keep your wits about you with that one, Lady Althea. Godric doesn't lose well."

"I've noticed."

"Did he tell you who gave him that scar above his eye?"

"He said he killed the person who did it."

She laughed. "Saving face as usual. I gave him quite the lashing with that one, and he hasn't quite forgiven me, but I won't be won by a weakling."

Helga definitely wasn't settling down anytime soon, but Althea also knew that she had to have a descendant within the next decade or so to continue the line down to Hepzibah Smith. She wondered who ended up winning the proud Valkyrie's heart.

"And you, Lady Althea? Do you have a sweetheart?"

"No," she said. The words didn't sound quite believable. She didn't have a boyfriend in the modern day—mostly because her job kept her away from home for half the year and the secrecy required. She didn't want to end up like Croaker. Gryffindor, despite the events of the previous day, was definitely not her sweetheart. What did that leave?

"Perhaps in time. Or perhaps sooner than you think."

"I'm not interested in Master Gryffindor."

The woman smiled, nodded, and started walking down the corridor. "I never said it was him."

 _Rule #7 of the Timekeeper's Code: Do not form relationships in the past._

Althea was sitting in the library, reading one of the illuminated texts, and trying to figure out a new plan. It was entirely possible that she'd royally screwed up the past. Maybe Gryffindor and Slytherin wouldn't have their fight, maybe Slytherin wouldn't leave, and maybe the Baron wouldn't kill the Grey Lady. Maybe, maybe, maybe. She'd never been so unsure in her entire life.

What if she went back to a future where Lord Voldemort had won? Or a future where Albus Dumbledore hadn't defeated Grindelwald? Or even a future without a Ministry… There was no telling what she could travel back to at this rate. She'd broken too many rules, too many laws of time to get off without some kind of penalty. There had to be a price to pay and she was sure that she wouldn't be the one doing it.

She could feel a headache coming on at any moment. How many un-births would she be responsible for at this rate? She was over a thousand years in the past and had fucked up beyond measure. The only reason she'd been allowed to go on this mission was her success rate, research, and copious favors and paperwork for other Timekeepers. She'd destroyed the world with her ambition.

If she returned to the future and it was completely different—what then? Could she go back in time and stop herself from ever bathing in the hot springs? Set history back on course? The issue was that if the Ministry didn't exist then how would she be a Timekeeper? Time travel had all kinds of loopholes that required deep thought to contemplate. It was entirely possible that she could still be a Timekeeper in a different capacity in the future or even just a person who got their hands on one, but that would mean she was stuck in a loop of trying to stop herself and failing.

The headache returned and she slammed the book shut before levitating it back on the shelf. It was too risky to write out her plan, her problems, or a pro/con list, but the urge was strong. It was how she figured out her decisions in the future where she'd assumed things were more complicated. This situation was extremely complicated and made even more so by the headache, her sore body, and the lack of options. Groaning, she stood up and escaped the library without taking much time to note the differences between this time and her own.

Madam Pince would come along further down the timeline and organize and fix everything. Then she would rule over it with an iron fist before retiring to much fanfare and fake sincerity. Althea had seen the library pre-Pince and thought it was a nightmare and the woman was a Godsend. This one was small still, being built up with each passing month, but it would grow exponentially after the invention of the muggle printing press and later the magical version.

She walked down the corridors, rubbing her temples, and tried not to whisper under her breath. It wasn't safe to do that when anyone could be listening. Gryffindor and Helga were teaching, Slytherin was most likely in the Chamber, and Rowena was probably in her secret study too—wherever that was. She essentially had the Castle to herself for once or, if she wanted, it was the perfect time to escape. The longer she stayed the more she touched the future wasn't worth it.

Althea walked out of the castle and toward her camp on autopilot. Everything was just like she'd left it right down to the instant noodle wrapper under her cot. She packed up everything, used a Shrinking Spell, and put it away in an inside pocket of her suit. It seemed like it had been decades since she'd been in the tent and nothing had changed, but everything had. Once the camp was completely torn down, there was nothing left to do but walk the perimeter.

Without doubt, if she ran then Gryffindor would find her. There really wasn't another choice but to wait. She could do it. She'd waited in line for a week for tickets to the Weird Sisters farewell concert. The wait for her O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s results had seemed to take forever. Nine days was nothing.

#

He found her sitting on the floor and staring up at a portrait of Merlin. It seemed like it was the only non-magical art in the entire castle and she wasn't sure why. Althea had her theories of course, but concrete answers were always better than assumptions. Instead of looking down at her or smirking like he usually did, Salazar Slytherin sat down on the floor next to her without a word.

They sat like that for a few minutes before she broke the silence. "What are you thinking?"

"I'm asking myself what Merlin would have done in my situation. You?"

"I'm wondering why this painting isn't magical."

"My question may be unanswerable, but yours is not. His essence and magic were too great to contain. It would have been a weak impression of a great man. A muggle portrait works better—even if Godric hates it."

"Why?"

"He feels like Merlin is the ultimate measurement of goodness in the world and that he can never get close enough."

"And you?"

"I think that it's better to talk to a painting that can't talk back every once and a while. He's a good confidant." He brushed some dark hair back and smiled. "We speak often."

"About what?" She angled her body toward his. It was odd that being close to Gryffindor set every nerve in her body haywire, but being by Slytherin had the opposite effect. That described them really: hot and cold, fire and water, noise and silence.

"School business mostly. I read the first draft of my proposal to him."

"Did he like it?"

"His opinion isn't the one that matters."

"I think that Gryffindor will come around."

"He's fairly stubborn when it comes to these types of things."

"Why didn't you allow squibs in from the beginning? You could have put them in your House and no one could have a say."

He frowned. "We wanted to create a safe haven for magical children, to protect them from the muggles. Ultimate seclusion seemed like the easiest option. I mean, why else build a school out here?"

Considering that squib education never made it into Hogwarts in any of its history, she knew that the matter would never create any lasting effect no matter how hard Slytherin tried. Eventually he'd move on to muggleborns and that would be that. History, while not exactly set in stone, was predictable and Slytherin had to have some kind of cause. Whether it was letting squibs in or keeping muggleborns out didn't make a difference.

"Can squibs even integrate in our society?" she asked.

"I think it's possible. While they may not be able to perform magic it doesn't mean they can't learn. There are practical applications and skills that don't require any kind of spell. It seems unfair to separate an entire group of people from both worlds just because they don't belong."

She realized something and spit it out before she could think it through. "You know a squib."

He frowned for a moment before giving her a terse nod. "My sister."

"I didn't know you had a sister."

"Few do. It's for her protection more than mine."

"What does your wife think of that?" She had neither confirmed nor denied that Slytherin did or did not have a wife, but Tom Riddle aka Lord Voldemort had to come from somewhere. If it wasn't Slytherin himself then maybe it was the squib sister.

Slytherin gave her a funny look. "I haven't taken a wife."

"Oh, I just assumed. What with you being the famous Master Slytherin and all."

"Call me Salazar."

"What?"

"Salazar. It's my name after all. Titles are just possessions, and not the people themselves." He lifted up his left hand and rolled up the sleeve of his cloak. It was to clearly display that he wasn't wearing a ring, mark, or anything of the kind to suggest that he was married or even betrothed. "And you, mysterious Althea?"

"No, I'm alone."

He reached over and grabbed her hand, running his thumb over her palm. "Not having a lover doesn't mean you're alone. There are plenty of other loving bonds. Some stronger than others. I can see that you have and will have much love in your life."

"You study divination?"

"No one else wanted to, and I figured it was a subject worth teaching. It comes in handy sometimes."

He let go of her hand and she felt the absence immediately. They quieted for a moment and, for once, she didn't feel the need to break it. She looked back up at Merlin's portrait and wondered what he would do in this type of situation. First of all, he probably wouldn't have broken protocol to take a bath and then he wouldn't have compromised the mission after that and he wouldn't have trained with Helga or kissed Gryffindor or been sitting in comfortable silence with Salazar. He would have been the Timekeeper that Althea should've been.

"You're crying."

She hadn't realized that silent tears were streaming down her face. They dripped onto her Cloak, darkening the fabric before disappearing. She wiped them away, but for some reason the flood wouldn't stop. Turning her head away, Althea shrugged it off and tried to act casual.

"It's nothing."

She'd learned long ago that crying about life's injustices wasn't a good use of time, and that being loud about it just made everyone else suffer. She'd spent the first couple of summers after starting Hogwarts crying about how much she missed it: the magic, the food, the classes, her friends, etc. Her dad had just patted her hair and kissed her head and said that she could wait a few more months. Her mum just gave one of her withering stares, and Althea learned to be quiet.

"Tears are never for nothing."

"Just something in my eye."

"Then let me help you."

She didn't have a good excuse for that one so she turned toward him. His hands cupped her cheeks as his eyes met hers. He looked concerned, but seemed to relax when he couldn't find anything and the tears stopped. For a moment, she thought he was going to lean in and kiss her but nothing happened. He pulled away and stood up, reaching down to help her. When they were both standing, he reached over and handed her the wand that had somehow slipped out of its holster.

"Yours?" he said.

"Yeah, thanks."

"It's unlike any wand I've seen. The craftsmanship is superb though. They make wands like these in Romania?"

She honestly didn't have a clue whether they did or not. "They can."

"If you don't mind me asking—what's the core?"

"Unicorn hair."

"Ah, Rowena's is the same. Similar disposition I suspect."

Althea put her wand back and silently marveled at the fact that she shared the same type of core with Ravenclaw herself. She stretched out her arms and pushed back some hair. "And yours? What's your core?"

He looked proud for a moment and she knew if it was good info the report wouldn't be a total waste. "Can I trust you?"

"Of course. Who am I going to tell?"

"Godric doesn't know this, and I'd prefer to keep it that way."

"I'd never tell him," she said. "You can trust me."

He pulled out his wand, just barely longer than hers, and held it out. "Basilisk heartstring."

"Excuse me?"

Salazar smiled. "Basilisk heartstring."

"That's not possible."

Multiple things could be used for wand cores. Ollivander had a pamphlet on the subject in his shop and she'd browsed it while waiting to get hers when she was eleven. She'd tried sharing it with her dad, but he hadn't been interested. Wands had no use in the muggle world. The best cores were dragon heartstring (very dependent on what kind of dragon it was), unicorn hair, and phoenix feather. Veela hair, kneazle whiskers, and kelpie hair were less common but still used. She'd never heard of anyone with a basilisk heartstring core.

"Trust me it is. Took a fair bit of work to acquire it, but it's mine." He put the wand away.

"How does one acquire a basilisk heartstring?" She knew about the one he had hidden in the Chamber, but it didn't seem possible to take such a delicate part from a living creature.

"I found sisters," he said, "and one of them was dying. I put it out of its misery and harvested the heartstring."

"I didn't know basilisks could have siblings."

"Two eggs hatched under the same toad," he said.

"Must've been a big toad."

"It was."

Basilisks were rare and dangerous beasts, and only a handful had ever been spotted successfully. It was difficult to investigate and study them when one glance meant certain death. Newt Scamander had been the most successful cryptozoologist to date when it came to them, and she'd followed him on a few of his journeys but never that one. Considering that he'd almost died it wasn't something Timekeepers wanted to risk. The name of the game was observation, and looking at a basilisk could kill.

"Dinner will be served. Will you be joining us again?"

"I plan to."

"Will you sit beside Godric again?"

"Is there somewhere else you'd rather I be?" It was bait and she knew it, but it'd be interesting to see if he'd take it.

"Rowena and Helga would be better company."

He didn't take it.

"Then I would be humbled to sit beside them," she said.

"I will see you then." He nodded once before turning and striding down the corridor.

"Hey Salazar?" she said. "What happened to the other basilisk?"

He turned around and tilted his head. "I found her a home."

* * *

 **So what did you guys think?**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Here's an earlier-than-normal update to give you some answers and provide more questions.**

 **Anything you recognize (plot, characters, etc.) belongs to J.K. Rowling. Everything else is mine.**

 **Please read, enjoy, and review. Big stuff happens here.**

* * *

Chapter Eight

The last day of training with Helga was the worst of them all. They started with the same run around the lake before moving into sword training. Even though Althea could last longer than the day before—despite her screaming muscles—it took immense determination not to just crawl up in a ball and give up. She was fighting one of the best warriors ever and the fact she could last more than five minutes was a noteworthy accomplishment in and of itself.

At some point in the fight Helga brought out her wand and started attacking with one hand and defending with her magic. It only took one move to knock Althea on her ass. The woman laughed before ordering her to get back up. "If you have enough strength to wield with one hand then it works to your advantage. Few these days study the art form."

Learning swordplay might make sense in this time, but no one used weapons in the future anymore. The closest a person could come would be the Ministry-regulated Weasley Wizarding Wheezes' Defense product line, but those were mostly aerial type sprays and powders. The last time a person had used a sword in battle was when Neville Longbottom cut off a snake's head. Helga Hufflepuff would probably be disappointed in the lack of fighting finesse in the 21st century.

That and her vastly different House qualifications. Hufflepuff had been the joke of Hogwarts for centuries before it had started to change. She wondered how that Sorting Hat could get the woman so mixed up with the one in front of Althea. Helga lowered her sword and gave Althea time to stand up and brush off. They started again, this time only using one hand, and it was harder than using both. Althea' shoulder ached from the first impact, but she managed to block and pull out her wand at the same time.

Ministry field training was more than it used to be, but still pretty basic for the 'pencil-pushers'. Only Aurors needed to know how to fight and battle Dark wizards. Otherwise it was a physical assessment, simple obstacle test, and spell check and done. She was sure that a large reason for the tests was thanks to the requirements to join Dumbledore's Army and the Order of the Phoenix. They weren't at war, but they could be any day now. No one wanted to be caught off guard again.

That didn't mean Althea was anywhere close to Harry Potter's level as she blocked Helga's sword and fired off a Disarming spell at the same time. But, for once, it seemed that some kind of luck was on her side because the witch's wand flew out of her hand and Althea followed through on the block with an attack. And, for once, Helga didn't block it in time and it landed. They staggered and fell at the same time—both off balance—and landed on the dirt.

"I'm so sorry!" Althea expected to lose her head at any moment. She'd cut Helga fucking Hufflepuff across the arm and had to pay for it in some way.

The witch stood up, sheathed her sword, and threw her head back laughing. "Sorry for what, girl? I haven't been knocked down for years! If you weren't too old I'd put you in my House."

She reached forward and hugged Althea, completely surprising the witch, and picked her off of the ground. She added this moment to the list of things that she couldn't put in report because of how unbelievable it would be. "It would be an honor."

"Then I dub thee, Lady Althea, an honorary Hufflepuff." Helga set her back down and handed over the sword. "Your training is finished and I believe that this is yours now."

"Oh, I couldn't—"

"I insist. I haven't used that old thing for years…and it suits you."

#

 _Rule #8 of the Timekeeper's Code: Do not bring any artifacts from the past to the future._

It felt weird to be sitting on the bed in her broom closet holding Helga Hufflepuff's old sword and coming to terms with the gift. The hilt was silver with black inlay, a fairly simplistic design, and the blade was fairly dull. She'd use a Sharpening Charm later to fix it, but for now all she could do was stare. Helga Hufflepuff had given her a sword and she either had to take it with her or not. If she did then she'd be breaking the code, but if she didn't then there was a chance it could alter the future in some way.

There was a knock at her door. Hiding the sword under her pillow, she stood up and answered. It was probably Gryffindor looking for another date. Except the person outside her door wasn't him; it was Rowena Ravenclaw. Her hair was perfectly coiffed with the diadem snuggled in it like a nest. She had a tight smile as she dipped her head. "May I speak with you, Lady Althea?"

"Oh, of course."

She stepped into the room, looking like a peacock in a pigeon coop, and gave the room a quick glance. "Had I known your accommodations were substandard I would have insisted on one of the guest suites."

"It's fine by me. I don't need much."

"Good to know." She conjured up a chair and sat, snapping her fingers and sending for tea and biscuits a moment later. "I'd like to speak with you about Godric and Salazar."

"What about them?"

"I'm a shrewd woman, Lady Althea, and I've noticed a few things about your relationships with my friends. What are your intentions?"

"I'm sorry?" She couldn't believe that this was happening.

"I can understand the allure of the pursuit," Rowena said, "but my friends are not prey. Godric will not be toyed with much longer and Salazar is more delicate than he seems. I will not stand by and allow anyone to distract them from their pursuits. Ah, the tea."

She poured a steaming cup while helping herself to a biscuit. Althea was frozen to her spot on the bed and tried to process what was happening. Rowena offered her a cup and her hands shook as she took it. The sorceress was someone more terrifying than Helga, Gryffindor, and Salazar combined and all she was doing was drinking tea.

"I think you'll understand it if I'm not enthused about their affections for you. Hogwarts can't afford to be divided in times such as these, and it would be best if you were to take one for your suitor or deny them both. In due time, I think you'll find this a wise decision, but I can't really recommend a choice. They each have their positive and negative aspects, I'll grant you, but either would be a fine husband."

In the world of things that Althea thought would never happen this ranked highest. She could believe getting discovered on a mission—it happened to the best Timekeeper—but Ravenclaw acting like a mother bear had not been something she could've predicted. "I promise you I have no intentions for either man," she said. "I'm leaving in eight days and can't afford to."

The woman narrowed her gaze for a moment before giving a curt nod. "I trust your word as long as your actions prove true."

"Besides I'm not really a suitor-type of girl. It wouldn't last anyway."

She shook her head. "I doubt that. Godric may have his weekly affairs and Salazar seems to care little for love, but they are both men who would stop time for you. I know this from just a few days. Surely you must?"

"I…No, I didn't realize they felt so strongly."

"You're not used to being wooed are you?"

Rowena was straight-forward and honest, qualities that Althea had always admired before she had to personally deal with them. It was true that she'd hadn't really dated since starting work at the Ministry, but when she was in and out of time every couple of months it didn't make much sense to get involved. Before that she'd had a somewhat serious relationship with Eli Goldstein from fifth year to seventh, but that had ended when he'd gone on to do his mastery and she'd entered the Ministry.

"No, I'm not."

"A witch can tell," she said. "I never cared for relationships myself until I met Favian."

"You have a husband?"

"Had."

Logically it made sense that Helena Ravenclaw had to have a father, but he was listed as 'unknown' on all of the Ministry's data. "What happened?"

"I'm not comfortable discussing that with you," she said. "And you have no need to know. Just understand that love doesn't come easily for women like us, but when it does you should enjoy every second."

#

She didn't go to dinner. Instead she put up more wards on her room and pulled out all of her supplies. She hadn't been keeping up with her journals since there wasn't much of a point, but the urge to write hit hard. Even if it didn't make it into her report or the paperwork, she had to write it down so it would be real somewhere once she returned to the future. Her last entry had been the afternoon before Salazar had found her, so that's where she started.

It seemed even crazier when she wrote it down and hard to believe that it had all happened in just a few days. Had she really been discovered naked by Salazar Slytherin? Had she really gone on a date with Godric Gryffindor and trained with Helga Hufflepuff? Had she really eaten at the Masters' Platform with the founders and talked to the future Bloody Baron? It all sounded like a crazy dream the Thinkers in the Department conjured up.

Maybe this was all in her head, some kind of practical test within the Department to see how she would act outside of assignment parameters. In which case she'd probably failed a thousand times over, but then why wouldn't they just pull her out of the simulation? It didn't matter. There wasn't much time left before she'd be going.

Her head hurt like it'd been hit by the Hogwarts Express. She organized all of her supplies before hiding them. Once again she was tired of Cleansing Charms and she was already in too deep so why not go further? Taking down the wards and leaving the room, Althea went off in search of a bath. The prefects' quarters were a few years from being added on, but that didn't mean there wasn't some kind of bath the founders might use. There were quite a few places she hadn't followed them when she'd been under the Cloak, and she went through them in her mind. There were the personal chambers which weren't really options, the Chamber of Secrets didn't have a bath and she really didn't want to get naked with a basilisk, and that only left one choice. She didn't know what it was exactly, but in the last week she'd tailed Rowena the woman had gone into a room on the seventh floor and disappeared for several hours.

Althea put on her Cloak once again, hoping to avoid Gryffindor to the best of her ability, and made her way up the staircases. It did seem ridiculous to have a castle this large for only sixty-two students, four founders, and a single guest, but it would be needed in the future. She found the area where she distinctly remembered Rowena going into a room, but there wasn't a door to be found. She'd been so sure that it had to be some kind of special bath or maybe a study with a bath. The woman had immaculate hair that couldn't be created by just spells and potions. There had to be a goddamn tub somewhere!

She paced for a moment or two before looking up and finding a perfectly ordinary looking door that hadn't been there before. It was about where she remembered it should be, and she turned the knob after checking for any wards or protection spells. It seemed odd that there wouldn't be any at all, but if there was a bath behind that door it might be worth it. She cast a few charms of her own before turning the knob.

Inside was the most beautiful bathroom Althea had ever seen. Better than the prefects', better than all the ones in her mother's muggle magazines, and way better than the small cubby she had in her flat. This was a proper bathroom. The tub took up most of the floor—more of a pool really—and she could already see steam rising from the scented bubbles. The entire room smelled like eucalyptus and mint and there were fluffy towels and a robe hanging near the water.

"Thank you, Rowena," she said.

She closed the door behind her, set up a handful of wards, and stripped off her clothes. The water was the perfect temperature and she sank below the surface. There was a beautiful mosaic in the tile underneath that reminded her of the night sky. When she came up there were bottles nearby that hadn't been there before. She opened and smelled them each, and almost jumped for joy when she realized that they were washes that would be regulated in her time for their quality. Immediately lathering and smiling, she began to sing as she finally relaxed.

It was one of her mother's favorite songs, a jazz number by Blossom Dearie, and she let the familiar tune ring out. She could feel layers of dirt come off. There was only so much a Cleansing Charm could do. No matter how long she stayed in the water the bubbles and temperature didn't change. The moment she wished to know what time it was a clock appeared on the wall and told her, but that didn't make sense.

Clocks weren't invented yet, and neither were watches so there was no way for this kind of technology to exist in the room unless…. Unless this room didn't follow the laws of space or time. She remembered that there had been a rumor while she was Hogwarts of a place like that, somewhere that had hosted Dumbledore's Army and countless other rebels, but it didn't make sense that such a place would exist in this time. The only reason it would is if Rowena Ravenclaw created it herself.

That made a lot of sense actually.

Her voice made a nice echo off of the walls, but she was confident that her charms wouldn't let the sound out. She'd been in the bath long enough that her fingers were nice and pruned, and she could feel the distinct absence of all the knots in her body. It was the best she'd felt since being discovered.

She pulled herself out of the water and dried off with one of the incredibly soft towels. Her suit, on the other hand, was still not clean. They were designed to resist dirt, contaminants, water, and every other thing on earth, but that didn't mean they were self-cleaning. It would probably be best to air the suit out for a night, soak it in the deep-cleaning potion from her supplies, and put it back on in the morning. That meant she would either have to wear the dirty suit on her clean body until she was back in her room or carry it while wearing the Cloak.

Althea could admit that the idea of streaking through Hogwarts (even if invisible) gave her some kind of thrill. So she picked up her suit, covered up with the Cloak, checked her lack of reflection in the mirror that appeared on the wall, and took down the wards. She stepped out of the room with a new sense of purpose and immediately walked into someone. The force from the impact cause the Cloak to slip off of her head and start to slide down her shoulders, but she grabbed it before it could completely reveal everything.

"We have to stop meeting like this, Lady Althea," Salazar said.

"I'm…I was…going to my room."

"In such a state?" He lifted a dark eyebrow and smirked.

She felt a full body blush happening, but raised her head instead of ducking it. "My clothes were dirty and I have nothing else to wear."

"Are you a witch or not?" he said. "Could you not just conjure a new gown?"

She probably could have asked the room for clothes. She probably should have. The dumb thrill-seeking Hufflepuff part of her had wanted the fun though and was paying for it with embarrassment. "I didn't think about that."

Unfortunately with the Cloak positioned the way it was she couldn't just summon a new one and was left with the awkwardness. He tilted his head and the corner of his mouth turned down. "I'm guessing that you are unable?"

"Kind of."

He sighed in an almost-fond way and with a quick flick of his wand she was clothed again. The gown felt like gossamer on her skin and she quickly noted that he hadn't chosen purple. It was silver—his color. It wasn't overly revealing, but the lack of substance to it made her feel just as naked. She kept the Cloak on, but relaxed her grip.

"Thank you," she said. "What were you doing up here?"

"I was about to ask the same."

"I was taking a bath."

He nodded as if that made sense. "And I was looking for you. The Locater Charm brought me up here."

"Awful far away from your dungeon."

"Far from your room as well." She shrugged before starting to walk down the corridor. He followed. "We were sorry to miss you at dinner."

"I had affairs to tend to."

"Are you sure it wasn't Rowena's visit that ruined your appetite?"

She turned and glared. "How do you know about that?"

"You're not the only one who has studied wards."

"You warded my room?"

"I warded the dungeons, Lady Althea, long before you were ever here."

"That's an invasion of privacy."

"That's safety."

He seemed cool as a cucumber under her heat and that made her angrier. She crossed her arms, barely noticing that his gaze followed, and shook back her still-wet hair. His cheeks reddened slightly and whether it was because she'd pissed him off or because of something else she wasn't sure. Her wand was within reach, but cursing one of the founders of Hogwarts probably wasn't a good idea.

"What did she speak to you about?" he asked.

"Curious?"

"Just wondering." They continued walking, but she picked up the pace as they went down one of the staircases.

"It's none of your business."

The staircase began to move toward one of the lower ones. "You are my guest, and are therefore my business."

"No, I'm not."

There was a loud groan as the staircase stopped moving. Althea waited for it to start back up since it could be an early-architecture bug, but when nothing happened she looked over at Salazar. He seemed just as puzzled as her.

"Is this your magic?" he asked.

"I'm not doing this."

"This hasn't happened before."

"Then how is it my fault?"

"I never said it was."

Salazar spoke a few spells to try and get the staircase to move once again, but nothing happened. It remained stuck. "I guess we have to go back."

She started walking back up the staircase, yelping in terror as her leg sank into one of the trick steps, and drawing Salazar's attention back to her. He came forward and helped her out, his hands wrapping around her waist, and she leaned into his touch. She looked up at him, could feel the exhale of air against the top of her head, and imagined how easy it would be to reach up and touch his lips with hers.

The staircase began to move and she fell against him even more. He held onto her as it shifted back into place and only let go when he was sure she had found her footing again. "What was that?"

"That," he said, "was an anomaly. The others and I will have to look into it."

Part of her wanted to know if he'd felt anything while he was holding her. If he'd wanted to kiss her too, but she couldn't ask that question. They kept walking toward the dungeons, hypothesizing on the cause of the error instead of finishing their discussion on Rowena's visit, and for that Althea was grateful. The staircases moved on their own—everyone knew that—but the fact that it had stopped out of nowhere while people were on it was different. Maybe they knew something she didn't.

Salazar stood almost-awkwardly in front of her door, like he was waiting for her to go in or unsure of asking to stay, and reached out to brush some stone dust from her Cloak. His hand lingered a moment, and it was long enough for her to take it. The skin touching hers was surprisingly soft, but he didn't grip sword hilts all day or work with potions as often as the others. He didn't move away as she traced the back of his hand and flipped it over to touch the lines on his palm.

"What are you looking for?" he said.

"I don't know."

"I think I do." He put his other hand over hers. His eyes were icebergs and the shiver that raced down her spine wasn't because they were cold. There was a heat there she'd never seen. "Are you looking for love, Althea?"

He leaned down as he lifted up her chin. His lips barely grazed hers for a second, and she was lost.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Anything you recognize (characters, setting, etc.) belongs to J.K. Rowling. Everything else is mine.**

 **Thank you for your reviews, and please keep them coming!**

* * *

Chapter Nine

 _Rule #9 of the Timekeeper's Code: Never become involved with a person in the past._

The passion that struck was unlike anything she'd ever felt and it was Althea—not Salazar—who took the kiss to the next level. His hands dug into her hips as hers wrapped around his shoulders. One of his hands came up to brush away hair and touch her cheek. A part of her mind understood the absurdity and consequences of the moment, but she swiftly pushed it aside in favor of getting a fistful of his dark hair. He groaned and it was the sexiest thing she'd ever heard. They pulled away for a breath and he brought her back for more.

She wasn't sure how long it lasted: seconds, hours, eons. All she knew was the taste of his lips and the feel of his body against hers. The irony of it was that she was a Timekeeper having trouble keeping track of time because of this man. He drove her crazy, but she didn't care. It was all she wanted and more.

When they did finally break apart, Salazar smiled and stepped away. He kept a hand on her lower back. "What spell have you cast on me?"

For a moment she worried that he was serious, but the trickster's grin said otherwise. "I was wondering the same thing."

"From the moment you arrived my life has been turned upside down. What am I to do?"

"Run away," she said. It seemed like her emotions were a livewire as a few stray tears threatened to escape. It was cruel. How could she have this—have him—and return to the future? It wasn't possible. _They_ weren't possible.

"I'm afraid that I can't."

"Why not?"

"Something about you speaks to me, mysterious Althea, and I want to know more."

She reached forward to kiss him again. It was the last weakness she'd give into, the last moment she would forget her duty. Then she turned away and closed the door. Slumping against the wood, she let the tears fall.

#

Breakfast was a miserable affair. Helga had shown up at her door at sunrise, insisting that she continue training and practice despite being 'finished' because "a day without is a day wasted." After more running, swordplay, and tree-climbing they'd gone into breakfast with the other founders and students. Althea avoided Salazar's eyes and sat down at the other end of the table. Gryffindor seemed to think that her game of ignoring meant that she was playing coy with him, because he immediately cast a small rain of flower petals to fall over her. It would've been somewhat sweet if it hadn't mixed in with her oats.

Rowena and Salazar went off to teach their respective classes after the meal, and she noticed that the dark-haired woman frowned at the unseen tension in the room. It had been a terrible idea to kiss Salazar and get further involved in the past. Helga went off into the Forbidden Forest to do Merlin knew what, and that meant Althea was stuck with Gryffindor.

"I feel as if I haven't seen you in days. What are you getting up to without me?" His tone was playful, but she could sense his need for the answer. He reached over to link his arm with hers as they walked down the corridor.

"Hardly anything," she said. "I've been chatting with your friends. Asking them all kinds of questions about you!"

Althea put on her biggest, fakest smile and expected that Gryffindor would be flattered by the attention like every time before. Instead he was staring at her intensely and seemed disturbed by something. "Oh, have you?"

"Y-yes, but they haven't said anything unbecoming."

"There's nothing to find," he said. "I'm a perfect gentleman."

"I knew you were, but I have to be sure of a man's character before I let him court me."

"Are you considering my offer?" The intense look vanished and was replaced by pure glee. She'd never seen a man look so happy to get a chance at dating her. Eli Goldstein had never stared at her this way—even when they'd been exchanging notes in Charms before they'd been official.

"I would be an idiot to not even consider it," she said. "After all, a man of your talents, stature, and nature is so hard to find and I am honored by your affections."

The arm entwined with hers pulled her around so they were chest to chest. It was an uncomfortable position, especially considering the events of the night before, and she tried to think of quick excuses to get out of it. "I wish you would stay," he said.

"I would like the same, but I have business in Romania to finish before that could happen."

"And how long would this business take?"

"A few months to a year perhaps, maybe more."

"That is an awfully long time to be apart."

"It is."

"And you would not stay?" He put a hand on her shoulder as if she were a comrade. The grip was too tight though.

"My work is important to me—surely you understand?"

"Rowena and Helga's work is so difficult because they have no one to provide and help them. Your life need not be the same."

"I love my job," she said as the conversation somehow became similar to the usual argument with her father. When she still came home for the summers she'd find pamphlets and information regarding muggle careers and universities all over the place. They'd even made her go to a girls' camp one year, but had stopped after she accidentally set a tree on fire during the sing-a-long.

"I'm sure that you do, but things are different in this land. Here a witch doesn't need to toil away and can spend more time with her children and husband."

Part of Althea wanted to scream that women were just as powerful as men and that he'd had his ass kicked more than once by one, but she knew that wouldn't get her where she needed to be with Gryffindor. "If I could finish up my work in Romania then everything would be settled, and we could be together."

"It seems as if you care for your work more than me."

She shook her head and managed to pry her arm from his grasp. "Kind and gentle sir, please excuse me. I must be going."

It was lame as far as excuses went, but he seemed to be okay with it. "You are excused. Will I see you for dinner?"

"Yes."

He nodded and walked off in a sudden hurry toward the Headmaster's Office. She didn't know what he was going to do, but she had a bad feeling about it. The dungeons were quiet since Salazar didn't teach in them, but she knew the silence wouldn't last long. The lack of sound reached into her bones and sent chills all through them, but she stayed still. There was someone nearby.

When a person spends enough time invisible, they learned to sense the magic around them and within them instead of depending just on sight. It was about a year into her training with the Department that she'd been able to track her subjects without using spells, simply by following their magic and her intuition. She'd almost lost Newt Scamander in the Amazon, but had found him several hours later hanging upside down from a tree and sketching a new creature he'd found.

Althea drew out her wand and pointed it toward the dark corner nearest the entrance to the dormitory. " _Homenum revlio_."

The guise fell away instantly and Helena Ravenclaw came into sight. She looked more dressed up than usual; her gown was way too nice for class. Biting her lip she stepped forward and curtseyed. "Please, my Lady! Please don't tell anyone I was here."

"You're awfully far from your own common room," she said. "What are you doing down here?"

"I- I got lost," she said. She caught onto the lie and kept going as her voice became velvet. If Althea didn't have an idea of the truth she might have bought it. "I was looking for the lavatory and ended up here somehow."

"And you were invisible because…?"

"I thought you were Master Slytherin and I didn't want to get in trouble."

"Very sound reasoning," Althea said, "but I have another idea. Were you trying to visit someone in Slytherin's House?"

"No, that would be ridiculous."

"It's not that hard to believe. Shouldn't you be in class with your mother after all?"

"Well, yes, but—"

"Then tell me what you're doing here before I inform her of your whereabouts."

"I was meeting Waldo, okay? He and I decided to miss class so we could be alone for once!" She crossed her arms and reminded Althea of a less-controlled, visibly-hostile Rowena.

"Isn't that what your free time is for?"

"Try having a woman who can transform into an eagle for a mother and tell me you have privacy," she said. The information about Rowena's animagus form wasn't a surprise to Althea, because she knew that the founder did in fact spy on her daughter. It was her form of mothering.

"I understand that it can be difficult to find time alone with someone you would like to see, but missing out on an education to do so isn't smart."

Helena nodded. "What should I do?"

"Talk to your mother—maybe she'll understand. Does she know about your relationship with Mister Pratt?"

"No."

"Then tell her. Maybe she'll like him."

"My mother doesn't like anyone."

"How do you know?" Althea said.

"She's been alone for my entire life. She doesn't even entertain suitors."

"What about your father?" It was one of the hundred mysteries she'd encountered. Maybe Rowena's daughter knew.

"He's dead. He defended our village from a dragon singlehandedly and died a hero!" Helena's fists clenched and Althea could feel that she believed what she was saying, but something didn't fit right. Rowena wouldn't seem ashamed or secretive about a man who had been killed by a dragon. It didn't make sense.

"Maybe the reason that your mother hasn't had suitors is because she loved your father more than she could love anyone else."

"I doubt that," Helena said. "My mother loves books, not people."

Althea shrugged. "I won't pretend to know your mother better than you, but I think you should give her more credit. I also think you should get to class."

Helena nodded once before going up to the main floors. Althea pondered over the brief interaction, picking and pulling it apart in her mind. It seemed that the Grey Lady she knew of was very different from the Helena Ravenclaw she had just talked to. Like Waldo Pratt, Helga Hufflepuff, and Salazar Slytherin…things didn't add up. How did Waldo and Helena become the Bloody Baron and Grey Lady when they seemed to genuinely care for each other?

Nothing made sense anymore.

#

Althea went through her sword forms with practiced ease. Each one moved into the next with fluid grace, and she was almost amazed at her own progress. She never would've guessed that learning how to use a sword would become like meditation for her, but it had and she liked it. Her muscles were still unused to the extra effort, but the ache felt good instead of painful. If she kept up the practice after returning to her time maybe she'd develop some biceps and show them off to the other Timekeepers.

Sean Lewis was the fittest of the section, which was why most of the adventure type assignments went his way. He'd gone on some of Newt Scamander's more dangerous journeys, had front row seats to Grindelwald and Dumbledore's great battle, and done more than his share of war documentation. The man was a legend.

Althea, on the other hand, had a feeling that she was about to earn a reputation as Timekeeper-who-broke-the-most-rules-and-fucked-shit-up. Croaker always liked to say that he'd hired her on a whim, but she knew that it was something else. Most departments didn't hire eighteen year olds to go on dangerous missions, and most Unspeakable trainees weren't picked up in a section until they'd been with the department for three years. She was an exception.

After going through her forms, Althea sat on the bed and sharpened her sword. It made a soft hum and she started singing along with it. She lost track of time in the action and only broke from the stupor when someone knocked on the door. Her voice cut off and she gripped the hilt in her hand before answering. Salazar stood, hand raised as if to knock again, and backed up when he saw the blade.

"I, ah, was wondering what you were up to?"

"I was sharpening my sword."

"Isn't that Helga's old one? Did she give it to you?"

"Yes." Althea hid the sword under the pillow before turning back to him.

"You must be special. Those swords are her children," he said. His smile would've melted ice, but she didn't let it touch her heart.

"May I help you with something?"

"You have a lovely voice. Why do you keep it quiet?"

The real answer was that her mum had wanted her to sing for church choir every Sunday and she'd learned that it was better not to. Magic and messiah songs didn't mix well in life. "I'd rather keep it to myself."

"You continue to be a mystery," he said. "Would you care to join me?"

"Not particularly."

"Are you otherwise preoccupied?"

"Not really."

"Then I see no issue why you shouldn't join me."

"I see many."

"Such as?"

"Gryffindor will be displeased."

"And why do I care what Godric thinks?"

"He seems to be very possessive of me."

Salazar frowned before shaking his head. "I don't care."

"I can't—"

"Just come with me," he said. Salazar grabbed her wrist and dragged her out of the room. She set up a few quick wards as they left and wondered what he was up to. He looked around every corner, stopped for every sound, and moved at a much slower pace than she was used to. They made their way up to the main floor and then the first before she figured out a possible destination. But there was no way he was taking her to the Chamber of Secrets. That was the whole point of the room—it was secret.

She was proven wrong as they walked through the door of the girls' lavatory and stopped in front of the sinks. He checked that the bathroom was empty before looking over at her. "Do you trust me?"

Did she? Less than Helga perhaps, but definitely more than Gryffindor. She nodded. "Yes, I do."

"Good. There's something I want to show you."

He spoke Parseltongue and the sinks moved away to show a subtle passageway down. She had to at least pretend to be surprised that he a) could speak to snakes and b) that a room had suddenly appeared in the bathroom. "What is this?"

"My greatest secret," he said.

He held out his hand and she took it while ignoring the sparks of sensation that ran up and door her body. They walked down in the Chamber and watched as he navigated the dark tunnels with total familiarity. Hogwarts was his school, but this was his home. She held onto his hand as they crept down slippery steps and stopped in front of the giant door. He spoke again and it unlocked without hesitation.

It was only then that Althea realized a hitch in this moment. He was taking her into the Chamber of Secrets…the place that housed a juvenile basilisk… Was he going to kill her? What had she done to deserve being killed by a snake? Sure, she'd snogged him and ran away, but that didn't seem like it deserved death.

They walked into the Chamber, footsteps echoing on the stones, and she waited with baited breath for the beast to arrive. It would slither in at any moment, look her in the eyes, and that would be it. She'd never return to the future, share her findings, or solve the mysteries of Hogwarts. It would all be over soon.

"You seem nervous," he said. "What's wrong?"

"It's not every day a person discovers a hidden chamber."

He smiled. "Do you like it?"

"It's beautiful, Salazar."

They walked down the middle and she found that it was even better when she wasn't invisible and trying to be quiet. The light played off of the lake water and flashed beautiful patterns onto the walls. She realized that she'd never let go of his hand. It was cool in the chamber, easily five degrees colder than in the school, and she shivered. A quick Warming Charm later and she felt normal again.

He was staring at her and, before she could comprehend what was happening, he'd pulled her closer. Salazar leaned in until she could feel his breath against her face and then—slowly, as if asking permission—leaned in to kiss her. It was different this time too. Instead of the hurried, passionate kiss they'd shared this was one was quiet and slow. His thumb brushed against her cheek and she shivered again, but not because of the cold.

They broke apart and he smiled. "I figured it would be harder for you to hide in here."

"I'm not hiding."

"I can see that." He gave her a little space but held tight to her hand. "Do you trust me still?"

"Yes."

"Close your eyes."

"Salazar?"

"Trust me," he said and she did.

He spoke Parseltongue and she knew what was coming. Even so her body locked up at the sound of thick scales hitting the ground and dragging across it. They hissed at each other for a moment before Salazar took the hand he was holding and lifted it up. A second later, she touched something smooth, slightly wet. Her hand was dragged up and down for a second before she started petting the basilisk on her own.

The situation was surreal. Was she really touching one of the most dangerous magical creatures in the world or was he just putting her hand in a bowl of unripe artichokes? He reached down to kiss the top of her head.

"Do you know what you're doing?"

"I'm petting something."

"Althea, meet Buttercup. Buttercup, meet Althea."

There was a slight hum from the serpent's throat and she froze for a moment in disbelief. Never, in all of her research and observation, would she have guessed that Salazar Slytherin, professor of Dark Arts and general badass, would name a fucking basilisk _Buttercup_. Still, she had to play along.

"And what, exactly, is Buttercup?"

"She's a basilisk."

She pulled her hand away for a moment before putting it back. "Aren't basilisks supposed to be incredibly dangerous creatures?"

"They're just misunderstood."

"Like some other snakes I know."

"Hmm?"

"Nothing."

She pulled her hand away as she heard the great serpent slide across the Chamber. A moment later, Salazar tilted her head back toward him, lifted up her chin, and pressed another gentle kiss on her lips. "You can open your eyes now."

She did and found herself almost lost in his. Stepping away, she took a deep breath and looked around the chamber. Buttercup had slid back into the pipes and out of sight. She looked back to Salazar before walking up to the dais and looking over his desk. He followed with his hands behind his back, watching in amusement as she flipped through some parchments and books.

"Why create such a grand place instead of a simple study?"

"For now this place is my study, but I hope to one day open it to my House as a refuge where they may practice and study in privacy."

"Isn't that what common rooms are for?"

"Common rooms are not for practicing duels," he said, "or brewing potions, or doing other things without supervision that students may need to do from time to time. I have no doubt that in time our Hogwarts will house many students and have a great number of professors, but there are only so many private lessons and tutoring sessions one person can do. Students could teach other students, practice together, and learn beyond what curriculum dictates. This is my hope for this school."

It was amazing to listen to the most-hated founder make such a speech of such nature. Before Harry Potter had arrived at Hogwarts none of what Salazar spoke of really came to pass. The Houses were divided and stayed that way, students stuck to the lessons and didn't divulge, and people did as they were told. The Golden Trio had changed all that. Now the Houses were united and spent much time together, there were clubs and groups throughout the school with different causes and purposes, and some students worked harder than others to learn beyond the assigned texts.

"I think it will be…one day."

"I want this school to set examples for the rest of our society."

"Unity?"

"We are far apart and few between. We have villages here and there, but no brotherhood or comradeship to keep us together. Magic separates us from the muggles, but it should unite us. Instead we are further divided by blood and status."

"And you dislike this?"

"I can admit that my status as a pureblood has granted me boons beyond that I would either receive. I only wish that others could have the same."

"Even muggleborns?" Part of her still couldn't believe that the man in front of her would later hate them so much he would bar them from this school of unity.

He paused for a moment. "Muggleborns are a delicate issue—that is true—but I think it may change in time. Godric thinks that they may be persuaded by the hatred of their kind to turn against us, but I think otherwise. Magic is a gift and would not be bestowed to those who are unworthy."

Salazar couldn't know that magic was genetic, a trait inherited and passed through the generations regardless of whether it was dominant or recessive. It was why squibs would later have magic great-great grandchildren or how purebloods were never fully promised that all of their children would have the power. Salazar's sister was proof of that.

"And you," he said, "What do you think of status?"

"I have seen many sides," she said. "My father was a muggleborn, but he didn't embrace magic. He found better…things in the muggle world. I am a half-blood, but have been blessed with good fortune."

He smiled and twisted a lock of hair between his fingers. "Selena would like you."

"Selena?"

"My sister," he said. "She appreciates people who understand."

"Have your friends met her?"

"Just Rowena," he said. "Selena was ill for a brief period of time and I needed potions that are beyond even my level of expertise."

"Where is Selena? If you are here…"

"She lives in Gwynedd with her husband and my nephews. I visit during the holidays, but try to stay away. Any magic at all can be a threat these days."

She nodded as he leaned his head on her shoulder. "You're a good brother."

"I hope to be a good man."

"You are."

But one day he might not be.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Timekeeper will be updated in either May or June. This is the last chapter until then.**

 **Anything you recognize (characters, setting, etc.) belongs to J.K. Rowling. Everything else is mine.**

 **Thank you for reading, and don't forget to review!**

* * *

Chapter Ten

There were three days left.

She'd spent every moment between the Chamber and this moment absorbing as much of Hogwarts as possible. She trained with Helga each morning and got stronger each day. She suffered through meals with Gryffindor and played the game as best she could. She had vague and impossibly frustrating conversations with Rowena about philosophy and, surprisingly, theology. And she spent each afternoon and evening with Salazar.

The man surprised her every day. Just when she thought she'd figured him out he'd say something new or contrary to what she believed and it would change. The list of things about him she'd started was nearly two feet long. If Croaker ever saw it he'd throw a fit because aside from 'his wand core is basilisk heartstring' and 'his sister is a squib' there was also 'he tastes like mint after meals' and 'his hands are surprisingly soft.' If she ever submitted the list for documentation it would have to be heavily reviewed.

It seemed that they spent as much time in each other's company as possible. Not all of it was spent snogging. Some of it was spent talking about each other's pasts and dreams for the future. Hers were either lies or vague truths, but it didn't seem to bother him. Either he assumed it was because of her mysterious façade or he just bought into it. She learned about his childhood in Cambridgeshire and his parents, Aznar and Lupe, who had left Britain after Salazar entered his apprenticeship.

The only thing he spoke little of was the apprenticeship. It was common knowledge that he'd met Godric Gryffindor during that time and they'd grown as great wizards together. Their teacher was a mystery—some powerful sorcerer distantly connected with Merlin—but Salazar wouldn't answer her questions on the subject. Instead he'd tell a funny anecdote about some time that Gryffindor had gone on a dumb quest and failed miserably. There were many of these.

Each day felt like the last. She kept trying to pull away, but couldn't. Something drew Salazar to her and she to him, and it wasn't something she could control. She'd spent an entire afternoon hiding from him throughout the castle and, somehow, it had just turned into a bizarre game of hide-and-seek. Althea didn't know what was going to happen after she left or how it would affect him. Part of her assumed all of the changes that had to happen for him to become the Salazar of the future were her fault.

In three days she would find out how badly she had damaged the world. It was terrifying.

#

Dinner was always an interesting affair. In order to sit beside Salazar she had to also sit by Gryffindor and put up with all that entailed. So far she'd had an additional three requests to share his cup, and each time she'd been forced to come up with an excuse not to. It seemed that he got more frustrated each time she turned him down. She could see a glint in his eyes—determined and sure—and knew that he would ask and ask again until she relented. He would never give up on their game, at least not until she lost.

Helga was currently directing a small band of musicians to strike up a tune. They'd stood at the Hogwarts' gates for hours before being admitted in, and had proven to be good entertainment during meals. She knew from _Hogwarts: A History_ that they would stay until the end of term before leaving for other opportunities and meeting an unfortunate demise in a muggle town. They were better than she would've guessed from just reading about them.

The students loved the music, and she noticed Waldo and Helena sending each other coy glances from their respective tables. She wished that they'd just make it public and get it over with. Courting wasn't something to be ashamed of, and she was sure that if Helena would just talk to her mother about it the problem would be solved. Other students were laughing and smiling, talking about the upcoming exams, and sending small charms and spells at each other. Apparently, the trend was Tickling Charms because every now and then a student would burst into laughter for no obvious reason.

A hand reached over and grabbed hers, and she resisted the urge to stab a knife in Gryffindor's wrist. He was smiling like a mad man and she could sense Salazar's silent fury on her other side. She was a hypocrite; if Helena and Waldo didn't feel comfortable going public then she was same. It wasn't safe for either of them. Gryffindor's rough, calloused fingers traced over her hand and drew a heart. She tried to relax, but was sure he could tell how tense she was.

"My dear Lady, what troubles you so?" he said. "I would slay a thousand dragons to make you happy."

She knew that his statement would send the Prevention and Ethical Treatment of Magical Creatures commission into fits. "I am simply tired from so much adventure. Helga and I climbed mountains today."

"She exhausts you too much. Someone with such a delicate disposition as you has no use of battle tactics."

"You'd be surprised," she said. The sip of wine after tasted just a little bit sweeter.

There was a quiet laugh beside her before Salazar spoke. "Do you not know this girl at all, Godric?"

"What do you mean, friend?"

"Lady Althea is fully capable of slaying her own dragons. She doesn't need you to do it for her."

"It is a man's duty to protect fair maidens!"

Althea didn't want to pop Gryffindor's bubble by mentioning she hadn't been a maiden since she was sixteen. That probably wouldn't go over too well with how old-fashioned his values were.

"The _Lady_ ," Salazar said, "doesn't need your protection."

"And what? She has use of yours?"

"And what if she did? She may choose that which her heart desires—it is her right."

All of sudden, both men were looking at her intently and both waiting for answers she couldn't give. It wasn't fair that she went undesired in her own time but was so popular in this one. But, then again, wasn't it human to want what one could never have?

"Gentlemen, I'm afraid that my protection is my own responsibility. It has been that way since I was a girl and I know no other way. Let me slay my own dragons and choose my own company. The one at hand is finer than any other," she said.

They paused, unsatisfied, but then gave tight smiles and continued with the meal. When Althea looked over, Rowena was staring at her and she shook her head once. It was all the disapproval needed to make Althea's stomach tight. She took a small bite of her stew and was finished. The conversation at the Masters' Platform turned to muggle raiders again and the newfound peacetime they seemed to be enjoying. Gryffindor was worried they would settle nearby, but no one else shared that belief. No one else thought muggles were a threat.

After dinner, she gave Salazar a small kiss goodnight as he went to speak with his students and went back to her room. There was a lot of packing and things to be sure of before she left. Undressing, she let her suit rest in a Deep Cleaning Solution before slipping on the dress that Salazar had conjured for her. Then she pulled out every scrap of parchment and note she'd written, every quill and ink bottle, and organized with meticulous detail.

She packed them away in preparation for her journey back. Then she stood up and looked around the room. What at first had been a sad broom closet had become a home of sorts. She would miss it and the memories she'd made. Sure, she could find this room in her modern Hogwarts but it wouldn't be the same. That castle was different—greater and just what Salazar would want it to be—but it wasn't this one. There were too many paintings and suits of armor, décor and paraphernalia from its history, and more students and professors than she could count. There were classrooms and buildings and the Quidditch Pitch, but even if it was bigger it would forever be lonely to Althea now.

A single tear fell, but she wiped it away. Croaker would laugh to see her like this. He'd say something like, "Staying here isn't an option—even if you don't live to see the timeline you changed."

There really wasn't a choice.

#

With two days left, Althea took the time to absorb everything that she could. Knowing that she wouldn't be allowed to return put a new spin on her view of Hogwarts. Suddenly the minutia and background information was of utmost importance. She wrote down the names of all of the students and which House they belonged to: from Alton, Margery to Worple, Adam in Hufflepuff, from Abercrombie, Anthony to Zeller, Tamsin in Ravenclaw, from Black, Corvus to Vane, Adrian in Slytherin, and from Crouch, Marcus to Thomas, Charmaine. She wrote them all down, regardless of whether she knew a descendant or not.

She wrote down descriptions of every painting, tapestry, and statue. Every meal was detailed down to the crumbs. Nothing went undocumented. Salazar seemed to find this amusing and obviously didn't understand her newfound obsession with the history and knowledge of everything to do with the castle. Gryffindor regaled her with endless tales, but she wasn't sure whether they were all true or not so she then asked Helga and Salazar for their own.

At her second to last dinner, Althea looked out at the students and felt a wave of sadness pass over her. She knew that some of them would die in their lifetimes or that their magical line would die out eventually—some in her own time. Salazar himself would be lost in short time and his magic ended with Lord Voldemort. It almost seemed hopeless to her even if it spanned centuries.

The band played softly in the background, and although their tune was light she felt weighed down. The consequences of the past two weeks would be immeasurable. She could go home and find total destruction or perhaps a world only slightly different. It was impossible to guess how wide the ripples would go. She sipped at her wine and savored the boar that Gryffindor had caught a day before. The students were looking forward to the annual end-of-term ball and Althea knew it would be her last event in the past.

Salazar and Gryffindor had both asked for the honor of escorting her, but she hadn't given either an answer. It was safer that way. She could come by herself, dance with both of them in equal turns, and vanish the next day. It was a proper send off to this fantasy of staying and living her life in the past. Althea finished off her cup of wine and was bothered when it didn't magically refill.

"Something wrong, my Lady?" Gryffindor said.

"I seem to be cut off from the wine."

"Must be another anomaly, eh? Let me fix that." Gryffindor reached over, took her goblet, and waved his wand over it. It didn't refill. He sighed and snapped his fingers. A small, timid-looking house elf appeared and bowed before him.

"What is Master Godric requiring?"

"Fetch a new goblet of wine for Lady Althea at once."

The house elf looked over at her, eyes watering slightly and hiccupped, but nodded and disappeared. Seconds later, it reappeared and handed over a large goblet to Gryffindor. He waved the elf off and handed over the drink. It was slightly heavier than usual and she dipped her head in thanks. She brought it to her lips and froze.

She knew that smell.

In the Department of Mysteries there was a locked door. What was behind it wasn't known for sure except to those who apprenticed or worked within. She'd heard the rumor about a fountain of Amortentia being inside and knew it to be true. Every time she walked by the door she smelled the same three things: French vanilla, oncoming rain, lavender.

She knew the smells and what they meant so well that it only took a second to realize what was in her cup and that there was a new smell. She recognized it as parchment newly touched with ink. In the next second she vanished the drink and waited until it refilled with plain wine to put her cup down. Gryffindor looked pleased and her stomach plummeted. If she didn't act like a lovesick fool he would know but she didn't want to fawn over him any more than absolutely necessary. She could tell the others what he had attempted, but there was no promise that that would end up well.

She hated having her choices taken away.

"Oh thank you, Godric!" She turned to him and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

She saw Salazar cringe a moment later and Rowena's eyes narrowed in an almost inhumane way. Gryffindor smiled and reached over to run his fingers over her bare arm. Shivers followed and she had to cover it up by leaning into his touch. He pushed her away as he whispered in her ear, "Let us save that for later."

And a second later she was released. It was difficult to act stupidly in love with him, while not being so, and while also pretending to hold back on her immense love for him for the sake of the public. She made sure to keep near constant eye contact with him, licking her lip for good measure, and drinking the rest of her wine. She could feel Salazar's tense body beside her and had to ignore him. It was a new level of pain.

Everyone was dismissed from the hall and she had to watch as the students went to their common rooms, as Helga and Rowena went off to the Headmaster's Office, and as Salazar waited for her at the door. When Gryffindor wasn't watching, she looked at him and shook her head. He looked confused for a moment and drew out his wand, but turned away and walked down the corridor at a brisk pace.

"Finally," Gryffindor said, "we're alone."

"I thought they'd never leave," she said.

He came closer and attacked her lips with his own. Acting classes had never been a part of her training, but she pulled up every possible skill she could. She pretended that he was Salazar, but it wouldn't work. His hands were too rough, his kiss too fierce and untamed, and he kept groping her breast through her gown. It seemed like he grew another three limbs as they continued on and she had to play along.

She could hear house elves clearing the tables and cleaning, but did her best to ignore them as he picked her up and put her on top of the table. Gryffindor kissed his way down her neck and pulled down one of the shoulders of her gown. At the same time he pushed up the hem and raked a hand up her thigh. Everywhere he touched grew cold like frostbite.

"Godric," she said.

"My Lady?"

"Take me to your chambers."

"So forward," he said.

She kissed him again and ran her fingers down his back. "Please."

"You beg for me? You plead for my affection?"

"Yes, yes." She gave one of the greatest fake moans the world had ever known.

He pushed her away from a moment and she reached for him. His eyes roamed her body at the same pace his fingers did, but he slowed at the bodice of her gown before stopping. She almost sighed in relief.

"I'm afraid that I cannot continue."

"Why not?"

"I do not wish to sully your virtue, my Lady, and I would have my future wife pure."

She gasped. "You wish to marry?"

"What do you say?"

No, no, a thousand times no. "Yes!"

"Shall we announce it at the ball tomorrow? A farewell present for my students and friends?"

She ran her hand over his face, the stubble itching her hand. "No, let's save that for later. Tomorrow is a celebration of this school and your great teachings. I take no credit in that."

"Whatever my Lady wants," he said. He kissed her again.

She wobbled on her feet a little. "I feel sickly all of a sudden. Perhaps I should retire."

"I'm sure it's too much excitement for your disposition. Let me escort you."

"I would love that."

They walked down the corridors, stopping in every other alcove to snog, and eventually made it to her rooms. She knew that Salazar's wards had probably been tripped and he'd know that Gryffindor was with her, but she wasn't sure what he would do. They kissed once more at her door before he left. She locked the door behind her, put up wards and Silencing Charms, and sat down on the bed.

Crying would be the reasonable thing to do in a hopeless situation like this, but she didn't have the time. She had to plan, prepare, and get ready to leave. Then there was the matter of an entire day of putting up with Gryffindor and his affection, but she'd have to power through. It would be worth it somehow.

She just had to make it through one more day, and then she could go home.

#

 _Rule #10 of the Timekeeper's Code: All Timekeepers and their effects must return thirty days after arriving in the past._

The worst part of preparing for the ball was choosing what to wear. Honestly, she'd rather wear black and pretend it was her funeral but that wasn't an option. Wearing purple—her color of preference—was also not a choice. The only thing she could do was transfigure a gown of scarlet and try not to feel like a whore. The jewelry was gold and the headdress made it look like she had a head wound. She felt ridiculous.

There was a knock at the door and she opened it to see Salazar. He looked handsome in green, but took in her appearance with a frown. "This is a new look for you."

"It's not one I favor, to be honest."

"There's still time to change."

"I'm afraid that isn't an option."

They began to walk up to the Great Hall, but stopped just short as he pulled her into an empty room. He kissed her and she felt heat flush through all of her veins at the same time. She pulled away before he could ruin any aspect of her disguise and shook her head. "I can't."

"What has he done to you?"

"I don't know what you mean."

"Something happened at dinner last night and you won't tell me anything. I have reason to be suspicious."

"There's nothing you can do about it."

"Tell me what it is and I will tell you what I can do."

"Wasn't it you who told me I can slay my own dragons?"

"Are you going to slay Godric?"

"Salazar," she said, "let me take care of this, and all will be well."

He frowned, but let her leave the room and keep going up to the Great Hall. He followed at a distance, watching her, and she saw his face when she had to go to Gryffindor and latch onto him like a swooning idiot. It was painful.

Gryffindor was dressed in gold, and looked immensely happy with what she was wearing. "My Lady is by far the most beautiful thing in this castle."

"You flatter me, Godric."

"I would like to do more." He twisted her hair between his fingers and pulled her in for a quick kiss. She froze under his touch, but obediently followed into the room.

The Hall was decorated like she'd seen only once before. On the 10th anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts, the professors and Headmistress McGonagall had thrown a giant party and invited all of the heroes of the war to celebrate. It had been one of the grandest nights of her life, unlike all of the muggle parties she'd gone to, and she thought it could only compare to this simple end-of-the-term ball.

The students were wearing their finest cloaks and gowns. She saw Helena and Waldo dancing together and hoped that this was the first step to a happy time in their lives. Gryffindor held her hand as they walked up to the platform and sat down with the others. Helga and Rowena each wore beautiful gowns in their House colors, and jewels much fancier than she was wearing. The diadem shone on Rowena's head, the eagle staring at Althea in an accusing manner.

They didn't seem happy about her arrival with Gryffindor or the fact she was wearing his colors and sitting by him. Perhaps they'd been rooting for her romance with Salazar to succeed. In which case, they seriously underestimated Godric Gryffindor. She reached for her cup and smelled Amortentia again. It had to be continuously administered or the effects would wear off.

She vanished the potion and drank. Gryffindor smiled and kissed her hair before offering her some bread from his plate. She ate and drank and waited on his every whim and wish. The students seemed happy and relieved to be done with the term, but she could not feel the same. Salazar had barely touched his food and drink, but took up the goblet when Gryffindor led her out to dance.

He was as good a dancer as hunter, but that didn't mean she was able to enjoy it. Rowena managed to cajole Salazar onto the floor, and she noticed that they whispered to each other while the music covered all sounds. Meanwhile Gryffindor murmured sweet nothings into her ear about their grand future together. They were going to get married in the hollow where he'd been born, they would live at Hogwarts during the school terms, and she would give birth to many sons for him to be named Gabriel, Gaynor, Gareth, and Gerard. If she was stricken with a daughter then it would be named either Gaia or Genevieve.

She replied positively to each comments, no matter how ridiculous, and smiled at everything he said. They danced to several more songs before he was obliged to dance with Rowena and Helga, and she was allowed to retire to a balcony that had been conjured just for the event. She stood outside and stared at the grounds. They were dark, but she could see the edge of the Forbidden Forest and the shores of the lake from where she stood.

Quiet steps echoed behind her and she knew he'd done it on her behalf. "I'm surprised you're not hovering on Gryffindor's every word right now."

"I wouldn't if I didn't have to," she said.

"I don't understand why you're doing this."

"Neither do I," she said under her breath. "Neither do I."

#

After several hours of drink and dance, the ball was over and Gryffindor allowed her to go back to her quarters after several rounds of snogging and a promise of another hunt the next day. She wouldn't be able to go anyway.

She transfigured the gown back into her suit and packed up her supplies, including Helga's sword. By the time she was done the room was bare and nothing remained. It was like she hadn't even been there. Her possessions safely stowed, Althea tried to sleep for a few hours but couldn't. She kept replaying the events of the past two weeks in her mind, and still couldn't find a happy solution. Her only hope was that the future was the same, and everything would be fine. Croaker could fire her for this, get her banned from the Ministry, maybe even sent to Azkaban, but if everything was the same then at least she'd know that she hadn't screwed up time that much.

Lying in bed and just thinking wasn't getting her anywhere so she decided it might be better to leave the castle earlier. She found her Cloak and put it on, becoming invisible with a simple swish of fabric, before taking down all of her wards and alarms and leaving the room. It was late and no one was in the halls, and a few moments later she was walking out of the passageway and onto the grounds.

It was a warm, quiet night and she made it back to where she'd arrived within thirty minutes. Then she sat down on the dewy grass, stared up at the stars and moon, and waited. There was nothing else to do with her time and it was safer to be further away from the castle and its powerful inhabitants. She tried not to think of the future or of the past, but instead focused on her breathing and the beauty of the present.

When she was ten—before Hogwarts and magic—her mother would take her into the backyard of their cottage and they'd lie on the grass. Then they'd stare up at the heavens and Mum would point out the constellations and tell her about them. It was hard to see the stars that close to the city, but in the pre-technology world there were millions of them. She found Canis Major and Minor, Lepus, and Monoceros. She wondered if her mum still looked up at the sky and picked them out or if it was something that had been ruined by magic too.

Althea spent hours picking out the stars and watched as they faded away. The sun crested over a hill and broke the horizon. She had a small meal of bread and cheese before standing. She pulled out the Time-Turner and stared down at it. It still amazed her that something so small could hold so much power. Harry Potter and his friends had destroyed so many, almost shut down the entire Timekeeper business, but fourteen had survived and she held one of them.

It would take her home.

"Althea!"

Her head whipped to the right as Salazar stepped into the clearing. She'd waited too long and now she'd been discovered. His wand was in his hand, ready to fight or defend, but she didn't let go of the Time-Turner. She began to turn the dials of the Turner with expert precision.

"Where are you going?" he said. Centuries.

"I have to leave." Years.

"Without saying goodbye?" Months.

"I'm sorry." Days.

She turned the final dial and felt the pull at her belly-button before the searing pain began. Her last sight was of Salazar running toward her. Her last feeling was of a hand gripping her wrist tightly.

There was no time to stop him.

* * *

 **THUS ENDS TIMEKEEPER: PART ONE.**


End file.
